Caveat emptor
by Archie from the bunker
Summary: Sometimes you take risks for your friends. Sometimes it lands you in trouble. Follow a team of shadowrunners as they try to dig their way out of a hole of their own making. *** My first big story, feedback is greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

The hospital elevator let out a *ding* as it reached the fifth floor, the doors sliding open in a swift manner. The floor in question was undergoing a major renovation and was therefore empty of patients and staff. It also meant that the floor was without electricity. The elevator's light illuminated the lobby of the floor, casting shadows from the occupants of the said elevator as they pooled out into the darkness, the only other faint illumination coming the floor's outer windows.

The first to step out was a pair of tall, wiry, dark-haired individuals. On the right was a sharply dressed man. Black suit, black shirt, black shoes, red tie, his long dark hair falling on his shoulders. One of the said shoulders was supporting the stock of a police issue semi-automatic shotgun fixed with a suppressor, which he pointed into the darkness as he scanned the environment. His otherwise green eyes had the tiniest yellow tinge to them, caused by his contact lenses. They were linked to his shotgun's smartgun system as well as granting him thermographic vision. He was sporting an eager grin, showing his sharpened, pearly white teeth.

On the left was an elven woman, sporting a more casual look. Jeans, an urban brawl jersey, combat boots, and a long black duster. She was pointing an Ares Predator pistol into the darkness, likewise outfitted with a suppressor. Her hair was cut shorter than her beforementioned companion, as it only reached the lower parts of her ears. Her eyes were mirroring his as well when it came to vision enhancements, though they had a much more distinct yellow glow as they were fully cybernetic augmentations. She also had additional clear cybernetics, as there were faint yellow lines running down her left cheek. That and her left hand had a metallic sheen to it, hinting at a cyberarm. She had a calm and collected look to her, in stark contrast to the excited grin of her companion.

As the two did not notice any immediate threat, they both called out "Clear," in near unison. Two more figures moved out of the elevator as the first two both took a few careful steps forward, making room for the others. The first of the two was a woman, a pair of small tusks jutting from underneath her lips combined with her muscular figure revealing her ork metatype. Her strawberry blonde hair was done in a simple ponytail. She had on a black tank top over a fishnet shirt, stylistically torn denim jeans and comfortable hiking boots. Even though she was wearing the least covering clothing of the whole bunch, the numerous colorful and often provocative tattoos on her skin made it seem much more covered than it actually was. Her eyes darted around the darkened area she was entering, her natural low-light vision losing only slightly to the vision of her comrades. A concerned frown marred her otherwise pretty face as she bit on her lower lip. She had a bright pink shoulder bag on her, covered in pins of a dozen or more punk/rock bands. The bag contained a multitude of different tools, as well as a Ultimax 70 machine pistol (with a suppressor on, naturally) and what appeared to be two small mechanical toy helicopters. Satisfied that there wasn't any immediate danger jumping at her jugular, she pulled the two helicopters out from her bag and did some small adjustments to them in preparation of sending them off.

As she was busy with that, the last passenger stepped out from the elevator. It was easy to identify the man as a dwarf from his height as he was only waist high compared to the rest of the group. He was wearing black-yellow robes of clearly oriental design, and his head was a cleanly shaven, an almost shining dome. He stepped out in a slow, calm manner, his relaxed expression exuding pure calmness. He glanced around the darkened hospital floor, glad his kind were blessed with natural thermographic vision.

"Just like we planned. 'Roo, Sensei, get cracking," the elf said, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. The ork, 'Roo, lifted her tiny helicopters up and their rotors buzzed to life, lifting the drones from her hands and in to the air. They darted off into the darkness, small cameras in their cockpits sending footage back to 'Roo.

"This implanted commlink is awesome," she said, her previous frown melting into the smile of a child playing with her favorite toy. "It's not quite the same as jumpin' into a drone, but it's close." A perceptive listener could catch a hint of an Australian accent in her speech

"Just you wait until your ex drunk calls you in the middle of the night," the dwarf, Sensei, said with a chuckle before turning away from the rest of the group, bringing his palms together and closing his eyes. He muttered a lengthy incantation, which at first didn't make anything happen. Then, there was a flash of fire in the air in front of him. The fire turned in to a spiral, and a form of a white fox the size of a pony squeezed out from thin air, landing nimbly on its four paws. Other than it's size and color, what stood out as unusual was that the fox had a kiseru smoking pipe sticking out from its mouth.

"Oh revered spirit," said Sensei, in a very courteous manner, bowing his head deep. "I humbly beseech your services. Will you lend your power to protect my companions and I until our business here is completed?"

The fox inhaled deep, the end of its pipe glowing softly. It then exhaled a puff of smoke through its nose before nodding slowly.

Sensei bowed once more before turning to the others. "I am ready, Aribeth." The elf, Aribeth, nodded ever so slightly.

"We'll get a move on as soon as 'Roos drones are done with the sweep. You ready, BloodHound?" she asked of the tall man. The man, BloodHound, grinned a little wider as he adjusted his grip on the shotgun.

"Oh you know me, I'm as ready for action as a Catholic priest supervising a kiddie pool." This earned him a string of groans from his companions.

The group stood silently in the darkness until 'Roo spoke again.

"I've got somethin' here. Found an empty can of what seems to be ravioli in the southernmost patient room. There's some sauce on the floor that hasn't dried yet."

"So we either just missed him or he's still here and just managed to avoid your drones," mused Aribeth. "Let's go check the room out, at least BloodHound can get the guy's scent if nothing else. 'Roo, bring your drones back and have them keep an eye out in any rooms we're entering."

The tiny helicopters soon returned, then turned right around again and begun to return the same route they had just taken, but this time much slower. Aribeth and BloodHound were right behind them, entering rooms and hallways after the drones had gone in and hadn't reported anything unusual. After them came 'Roo with her machine pistol drawn, dividing her attention between what hey eyes saw and what the drones' camera feed was showing her. Last came Sensei, the spirit walking beside him. The team was in a varying state of nervousness, the most nervous being 'Roo who didn't like being in the thick of things, and the least nervous being Sensei, whose calm demeanor had only increased if anything thanks to the presence of the spirit.

Inching through the darkness, the team eventually reached the patient room. The drones verified that the room was still empty. Having done that they zipped past the two gunslingers, back into the hallway and to the back of the line, keeping an eye on the team's flank. Aribeth and 'Roo had their guns pointing down the hall the other way while BloodHound moved into the room. He picked up the empty can, holding it at an arm's length at first in case any remnants of the contents were going to drip down on his shoes. He then brought the can next to his face, taking several long whiffs of the can. Then he chuckled.

"Thanks to our corporate masters for selling soulless, bland canned food. Had they used any actual spices I might have not been able to catch the smell of our diner." He then proceeded to fling the can further into the room.

Just as he had gotten rid of the can, the drones gave a warning to 'Roo at the same time as the spirit fox turned to face the darkness the team had come from, growling. The thermographic cameras in her drones showed 'Roo the muscular shape of an ork male, charging at them after somehow having managed to slip behind them.

"Contact! Six o'clock!" she cried out, spinning around and pointing her machine pistol at the attacker's direction. As she took aim, and the two other people with guns hurried in position to take a shot, the target flung a steak knife at Sensei's head before the dwarf could react. Thankfully, the spirit was faster. It flicked it's tail, slapping the knife out of the air as it turned towards the target. The targeted ork was as well built as he was poorly dressed. Not only was he barefoot and bald, but he also had on torn jeans that left half of his shins exposed, and a plastic tarp with a hole cut in the middle, worn like a poncho. On his waist, he had at least a dozen knives, tied around him with string, among them a meat cleaver he had just pulled in to his hand.

The next to act was the fox. It spat it's smoking pipe at the ork, hitting him right on the nose. There was a loud whack as the pipe hit him in the face like a baseball going sixty miles an hour. The ork fell on his ass and blood spurted from his nose, but he wasn't down for long. He did a backward shoulder roll back on to his feet and turned to retreat. By now Aribeth had managed to move to the side of 'Roo and Sensei, and she had a clear shot. She and 'Roo both fired with their suppressed firearms, Aribeth twice and 'Roo with a three round burst. The ork took two hits on his upper back before disappearing around a doorway. Aribeth sprinted after him, as did BloodHound, having just gotten out of the patient room as the ladies opened fire.

"'Roo, drones! BloodHound, cover me!" Aribeth yelled as she darted after the ork. BloodHound came behind her and the drones buzzed right past her, turning around the doorway. Both of them managed to get a good look of the ork leaning against the wall not one meter from the doorway.

"He's right there!" 'Roo called as the male ork introduced one of her drones to his cleaver, it's feed going dark. Aribeth stepped through the doorway, her gun pointing right where she now knew the ork to be. But the ork was expecting her and his left hand struck forward fast as lightning, grabbing the slide of her Predator. Showing intimate knowledge of the firearm in question, when he pulled his hand back the slide came with it.

Aribeth's smartgun system informed her of the dismantling maneuver as soon as it happened, and she didn't waste a second to visually confirm it. Which was a good thing, as the ork was bringing the cleaver towards her in an overhand chop. Aribeth dropped down on one knee, lifting her left arm to meet the blade. It struck her on the forearm, cutting through the lightly kevlar lined sleeve of her duster and hitting her cyberarm. The arm was sturdier than the kitchen utensil, causing the cleaver's blade to dent slightly. Her right hand shot up, grabbing the ork's wrist when he tried to pull it back.

Aribeth very nearly earned herself a kick in the face, had it not been for BloodHound. The sharply dressed man had taken a few running steps during Aribeth's scuffle and leaped horizontally over her. Turning towards the ork mid-air, he pulled the trigger. His shotgun, even while suppressed, let out a loud crack as he put a slug right in the middle of the ork's chest. The ork fell on his back, dropping the cleaver as he clutched his chest, gasping for air.

BloodHound landed on his side, then he and Aribeth both stood up. The pair looked at the ork, then at each other, smiling as they lifted their hands for a high five. Aribeth stepped over to collect the slide of her gun and quickly reassembled it. While she was doing that. BloodHound stepped over to the prone ork, his shotgun still aimed at him, while 'Roo, Sensei and the spirit walked in after them. 'Roo picked up the drone which had fallen victim to the other ork's cleaver, but she didn't seem too bothered.

"I guess it's a bonza that in the end you insisted I bring only these ghetto-ass drones for the snatch up. Had he broken one of me better toys I'd crack the shits."

"Sneaking military-grade drones into a hospital would have been an unnecessary hassle. You and subtlety mix like oil and water," Aribeth replied as she pulled the reaffixed slide back to insert another round into the chamber, then letting it go. "How's our friend?"

BloodHound leaned over the prone ork ever so slightly.

"He seems to be getting his breath back already. It's kinda impressive actually, after taking a gel shotgun slug from that distance," he said, with a chuckle and a mean spirited grin.

Gel rounds used a hard, jelly-like substance to spread the kinetic energy over a larger-than-normal area, making them several degrees more non-lethal than regular bullets, if you can imagine that. The whole team, sans Sensei, was packing them for this particular run.

Aribeth walked over to the ork, pointing her gun at him as well. Her and BloodHound were soon joined by Sensei and his spirit protector. The dwarf was his usual calm self, smiling gently as a father would to a son. "Lieutenant Taylor, I presume? We are here to extract you. Your mission is over, it's time to go home." BloodHound, being the only other magically awakened member of the team, could feel a slight tinge of magic in the dwarf's words. Sensei usually had a way with words, but apparently it never hurt to hedge your bets.

"I apologize for the manner in which my teammates employed force to pacify you, but I'm sure you understand that we have to think of our safety as well."

The ork didn't keep his eyes solely on the dwarf, they darted between him and the two others with guns to his face. Sensei continued.

"We ask you to relieve yourself of your weapons, after which we will take you to our vehicle. We will then transport you to your extraction spot, you will be taking an amphibious leave from the city."

The ork, still tense, nodded. He moved his hands slowly under his poncho, and soon there was the sound of steel cutlery dropping on the floor. Everything seemed to be going well until Aribeth saw a sudden wicked gleam in the ork's eyes, as well as the smallest of grins on the corner of his mouth. His hands did a sudden short pulling motion underneath the poncho, accompanied by a quiet metal *ting* sound. Aribeth's eyes grew wide.

"Grenade!" she shouted, grabbing Sensei by the collar and hitting the deck, pulling the dwarf along with him. BloodHound took a couple running steps before jumping on the ground himself, tackling 'Roo down with him. The ork girl let out a distressed yelp at the sudden turn of events The fox spirit jumped on the prone form of Sensei, flicking its tail and creating a barely visible dome of force over them.

The expected explosion never came. As their target began scrambling on his feet, BloodHound and Aribeth did similarly. Lt. Taylor took a few steps backward in the time it took the two to stand up, and he flung his "grenade", a full open can of ravioli, at BloodHound. The can hit him straight on the forehead, causing him to fall down. Blood spurted from his forehead, though it was hard to distinguish it from the red sauce all over him.

Aribeth brought her pistol up to fire, but Lt. Taylor was faster. He took a darting step forward and kicked Aribeth's gun hand with his bare foot, sending the pistol off into the surrounding darkness. Aribeth growled a curse as her right arm reached down to her belt, pulling out a curved karambit knife in a reverse grip. Lt. Taylor pulled out two more knives of his own, but he was forced to back up instead of attacking when the fox attempted to bite his foot. Aribeth closed the distance to the ork, the fox stayed back with Sensei as the dwarf stood up, his earlier smile having turned in to a very light scowl. 'Roo had risen up on to one knee, pointing her machine pistol at the ork's general direction while leaning over to check on BloodHound. Aribeth was too close for 'Roo to get a shot off anyway.

"Aribeth. Stand down," called the dwarf, just as the knife wielding she-elf was about to close the distance with the ork. Her brow wrinkled as she stopped her advance.

"I can take him," she said, but Sensei wasn't having it. He shook his head.

"I don't doubt it, but we're supposed to work smarter, not harder. Understand?"

Aribeth gritted her teeth, almost like she'd been looking forward to a knife fight. But she relented, still standing slightly crouched and ready for action as she stepped to the side, giving Sensei a better line of sight. Lt. Taylor seemed confused at first, then flashed a wicked smile and muttered to himself, barely audible: "Geek the mage first." With that, he broke into a sprint towards Sensei. Or, well, he tried. The dwarf pointed his meaty hand at him and suddenly the ork's feet did not touch the floor anymore. A rather simple levitation spell had taken most of the fight out of the lieutenant.

"Now, Lieutenant Taylor," Sensei said as he walked towards the now floating ork who threw over half a dozen knives at him in a quick succession, which were all struck aside by the fox spirit. "I truly wish that we could have done this the easy way like we tried to do at first. But unfortunately, we will now have to do this the hard way."

While the dwarf spoke Aribeth recovered her gun and walked over to the floating Taylor, where she was soon joined by 'Roo and BloodHound, who had recovered from the improvised missile weapon. His face and jacket were a mess of ravioli sauce and blood, but from what anyone could tell he didn't seem to mind all that much. Or maybe he was smiling because he knew what was coming next.

"My teammates will now show you the hard way. Ladies and gentleman, go ahead." The trio all lifted their guns and unceremoniously emptied their gel round reserves on the ork. For his credit, he didn't scream.


	2. Chapter 2

Smuggling Lt Taylor out from the hospital went smoothly. BloodHound and 'Roo exited first, BloodHound having first recovered the guitar case he'd left in the elevator. He didn't have a guitar, but the case came in handy smuggling his shotgun to places where longarms were scorned upon. Then came Sensei, having sent his spirit off to where it had come from. He headed to the reception and begun bothering the secretary staff with questions about the quality of care the hospital provided, and with several others he knew for sure the secretary didn't know the answer to and/or didn't have anyone available to whom they could delegate the dwarf. Many an "I'm just the secretary" and "sir, it's eight pm" were had. Sensei's eternally calm demeanor and smile, which could easily be seen as smug, were just another way to add to the secretary's growing annoyance. This helped Aribeth whisk the now unconscious Lt. Taylor away on a stolen wheelchair.

The team rendezvoused a couple of blocks away, where they had left their vehicles. Two motorcycles, BloodHound's Yamaha Nodachi, and Aribeth's Suzuki Mirage waited for their owners just where they had been left. Not that it was a surprise, Tacoma was a relatively safe district. But then again it could just as well be that any hypothetical motorcycle thief just ignored them to stand in awe for the monster that stood behind them. The dark grey, three ton Humvee had a habit of standing out where ever it went. The multipurpose vehicle had a slightly sleeker, more aerodynamic look than it's contemporary military cousins. 'Roo had nabbed it from an Ares surplus auction and had modified the hell out of it. Some of the modifications included airless non-pneumatic tires, stronger engine, and thicker armor plating than originally, seated six instead of the original four, sported a small dome-shaped camera on top, an inbuilt mechanism to switch license plates whenever needed and the whole interior had been re-done for a more casual, civilian look. Though it still had firing slits in the front and on the sides, as well as the frame for holding a heavy machine gun on the truck bed. It didn't have a machine gun installed at the moment, but give 'Roo a five-minute heads up and she could certainly produce one.

After contacting their employer for the drop-off, the gunslinging duo took off on their bikes, 'Roo and Sensei not far behind with the Humvee. Sensei sat in the back with Lt Taylor, holding a taser against the soldier's ribs in case he woke up and tried anything. 'Roo provided the taser, she had three of them in the glove compartment. The drive was uneventful and ended at Tacoma's waterfront. On one of the civilian piers a white luxury yacht had docked, and on the pier were three men waiting for the team. Two of them were a black skinned ork and a troll with a native look to himself. Both, as well as the third man, wore suits and ties, their bulging muscles stretching the seams. The third man, the Johnson, was an elf with tanned skin and short blonde hair, pulled on a ponytail. He had a black tribal tattoo on the right side of his face, undoubtedly something he had thought looked really cool when he was 17.

Before approaching the trio, BloodHound left his jacket behind. The Johnson might take offense if he was approached by someone covered in sauce stains, he thought. Having taken care of that they moved towards their employer, BloodHound pushing Lt. Taylor on the wheelchair. The group came to a stop couple meters from them, BloodHound stepping slightly further as he pushed the wheelchair in front of the Johnson, releasing his grip on the handles and stepping back.

"_Questo è per voi, signore_," he said. The Johnson smiled wide.

"_Molto bene. Ecco la tua ricompensa_," he said in return, stepping next to the wheelchair and offering a credstick to BloodHound. He took it and checked it's balance. Satisfied with what he saw, he looked up at the Johnson one last time.

"_Grazie. È stato un piacere fare affari con te_." With that he gave the Johnson a courtly bow, with a slightly exaggerated flourish. The exchange concluded, BloodHound turned back to his team and the four begun walking back to their vehicles.

"Anything we should know?" Aribeth asked BloodHound as they moved away from the pier, where Lt. Taylor was being wheeled aboard the yacht.

"Just told him it was a pleasure to do business with him. In the end, this was pretty much a milk run. Good thing nobody thought so beforehand, it would have jinxed it."

"Well it was thanks to you two notin' that the safest place for him to hide was a hospital, rules for engagement 'n' all that," replied 'Roo. "But it was mighty kind of him to hide within spittin' distance from where the Johnson was going to pick him up. We should have tipped the guy," she added, followed by a short laugh and chuckles from her teammates.

Reaching their vehicles, the team stopped to divide the reward. Everyone else took getting paid in a professional manner, juxtapositioned by 'Roo grinning from ear to ear and letting out a short howl.

"Hah ha, two 'n' a half big ones for two days of work. It's days like this that make me happy to be in the shadows." She stepped over to her car, using her commlink to open the driver's side door with a mental command. Instead of sitting inside, she spun on place and looked at her teammates while leaning against the chrome of her humvee. "So, who's up for drinks? First round's on me." She hadn't expected all of them to shake their heads and felt a bit disheartened.

"I need to see if I can save this jacket," said BloodHound, slipping the stained article of clothing on once again. "Though I'm probably still going to have to take it to dry cleaner's tomorrow. But on the other hand..." He rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Eh, what the hell. Just give me an hour to freshen up."

"I'm just going to say no," Aribeth said in turn. "I nearly got my wig split by a deranged ork wielding kitchenware earlier. Like it was fragging amateur hour. I'm getting rusty, I need to get my edge back. And getting wasted is not a good start for that."

"Oh come on, Ari'," 'Roo said back. "The rest of us go for drinks 'n' such all the time, you never hang out with us."

"And you'd think you'd have enough pattern recognition to figure out that I'm not going to start now. No offense," she added, looking from one teammate to another.

"None taken," said Sensei.

"None here either," BloodHound replied.

"Ditto," 'Roo added to the other's responses. "'n' you shouldn't beat yourself over for that, if I'd been quicker with my drones he wouldn't have gotten the drop on you."

"And it's not like you completely screwed up or anything," said BloodHound. "You caught his weapon hand and gave me a line of fire, and I for one will refer to my particular maneuver as 'sick'."

Sensei decided then to join the conversation: "Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall. If you feel disappointed in your performance, you should take the necessary steps to correct it. And 'Roo..." The dwarf gave the ork an ever so slight disapproving frown. "...peer pressure is not a good look on you."

'Roo lifted her hands up in a defensive manner. "Okay, okay! Sheesh, just tryin' to get Ari' to loosen up a bit..."

"I'm as loose as I feel comfortable being. Now then..." She lifted the credstick. "I'll make sure Sparrow gets his share of the reward. See you guys around." As her teammates gave their farewells, she headed to her motorcycle and zoomed off into the lights of downtown Seattle.

Sparrow, as he was known, was the team's designated decker. Rare for a decker, he was a troll. And a frail-looking specimen at that, he looked like he could bench press a Step-Van only as long as it was empty. He didn't like his current line of employment very much, so if at all possible he liked to do his decking from home. That had been a possibility with the run they'd just completed, so it was the option he'd taken. 'Roo had expressed her displeasure with the arrangement during the first few runs the team had done, but she had eventually grown to appreciate Sparrow's decking skills, and from what she had seen and heard from the troll the one or two times he'd been forced out on the field, she was silently grateful Sparrow stayed out of everyone else's way when the bullets began to fly.

"So Sensei, you've got something planned for the night or...?" 'Roo asked.

"For the coming morning, actually," he replied. "I'm having breakfast with my elder siblings. They're early birds so I'll have to get up early as well, I think I'll be retiring to bed as soon as I get home. Speaking of which, I hope you'll drive me?"

'Roo smiled. "Of course! Hop on in. BloodHound, I'll pick you up in an hour okay?" The tall man nodded in response before getting on his Nodachi. Soon all three of them were heading out and away from the docks.

"Hey, Sensei, mind if I ask you a personal question?" said 'Roo as they were making their way through the thriving metroplex.

"I don't see why I would, go on," the dwarf replied.

"Your older sis... is she still single?"

Sensei chuckled. "Yes, but I regretfully have to tell you that she's also still straight."

"Hey," said 'Roo, turning to the dwarf for a second and running a hand down her chest, stomach and leg. "**Nobody** is that straight," she said with a smirk. The dwarf chuckled some more.

"I'll let her know that there's an offer she can't refuse. Though, she is looking for a new secretary. If you'd like to leave the shadows and go legit, you could try to just wear her out while working closely with her.."

'Roo, her eyes on the road again, shook her head. "Nah, I'll take the hint. I'm past trying that way anyways, after the lecture Aribeth gave me."

"And the broken nose," Sensei added.

"'n' the broken nose."

-0-

It was a bit of a drive to Everett from Tacoma. Aribeth could have burned a bit of rubber and made the driver quicker, but she had a personal policy of avoiding unwanted attention... well, pretty much any attention to herself whether on the job or not. She guided her crotch rocket to the northernmost part of the district, colloquially known as 'old Everett'. It wasn't the wealthiest neighborhood, but it was still miles above places like Redmond. The GSP in Aribeth's commlink fed information into her cybereyes and made it easy for her to find her desired location, a grey apartment building between several more grey apartment buildings. She parked her bike and left her helmet on the handlebar.

She took the stairs to the fourth floor, avoiding the elevator out of habit, and came to a stop in front of a door, identical to any other in the building. She knocked thrice and waited. Soon came a voice from the other side.

"Who is it?"

"Aribeth," she identified herself. "I've got your payment for the extraction job."

Next, there came the sound of several locks, bolts, and chains being undone before the door was pushed open just a crack. A narrow, spectacled, blue-eyed face peeked out and down at Aribeth. Typically for trolls Sparrow wasn't just big, but also had two pairs of tusks jutting out behind his lower lip, and his a pair of horns on his head. His particular set of horns curved to the sides and then behind, which always reminded Aribeth of a coat rack. The dark-haired troll was wearing baggy pants and a blueish hoodie.

"Hey, Aribeth. Thanks for the delivery," said Sparrow, holding his hand out through the crack. Instead of handing the credstick out right away, the she-elf stared right into Sparrow's eyes.

"Sparrow," she said. "We have to talk."

The decker blinked. "Huh? W-what for?"

"I'll tell you inside. Unless you want to have this particular conversation out here," she said, glancing around the empty hallway. The troll pursed his lips, his mouth becoming a straight line if you ignored the tusks.

"Fine," he finally said, pushing the door open and stepping to the side. Aribeth walked over the threshold, entering the small one bedroom apartment. Sparrow was quick to close the door behind her, then proceeded to secure the five additional locks and bolts on the door.

The apartment was cleaner than Aribeth had expected. There was a small kitchen corner with a single burner stove and a bed large enough for a troll. What dominated the whole space however was a workbench with shelves spilling over with different kinds of small electronics and three different data terminals, every one hooked into its own processing unit. They all displayed different kinds of code, almost like Sparrow had been writing three different codes at the same time. Could have been for all she knew, Aribeth only knew two things about coding: Jack and Shit. There was only one chair, by the workbench. Aribeth chose to stand and turned towards the troll. Sparrow, having secured the door, walked over to the chair, turned it to face Aribeth and sat down.

"Uh, so, what was it you wanted to talk about?" he asked.

"You didn't show up to the gym this week," she said. This flustered the decker a bit.

"I, uh... I couldn't make it. I, uh..." He averted his gaze from Aribeth. "I think I sprained my ankle, it's been really hurting for li-" He never got to finish his sentence. Aribeth took a quick step forward and spun on the ball of her left foot, delivering two fast kicks on both of Sparrow's ankles. The decker was taken by surprise and jumped up from his chair.

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed, it only hit him a second later that a kick to a sprained ankle should have warranted a more pained reaction. He let out a frustrated sound, something between a sigh and a grunt before falling back down on his chair.

"Okay okay! I didn't come because I didn't want to. Sorry for lying."

"You should have at least called. Or answered when I called, I was seriously worried that something had happened to you until I managed to confirm that you were okay through 'Roo."

"I know, I just..." The troll's face turned downwards. "I felt ashamed for blowing you off and I didn't want to lie to you... so I thought I'd just keep my head down and the situation would go away."

Aribeth frowned, both out of annoyance and concern. "It really is for your own good. I know that as a decker you're not expecting to be facing the same level of violence as the rest of us, but out of experience I can tell you that the unexpected will happen, it's not a question of 'if' but 'when'. And when it does happen I want you to be able to defend yourself. Sure, you've got your taser, but you're also physically stronger than anyone else in the team. Nine times out of ten you could easily twist your attacker into a pretzel if you just know how to."

Sparrow was silent for a moment. He then took his glasses off and wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his hoodie. Aribeth saw the sleeve coming off with wet patches on it.

"Sparrow?" she said, her annoyance turning in to more concern as she leaned down and closer to the troll. There was a long silence before the troll spoke again.

"I've always been the strongest... always been the biggest... people always look at me and assume I'm another big bad troll. Then they find out I don't want to hurt anyone, not for any reason. Then they start seeing me as a big troll they can abuse and exploit. It's been like that since before I entered the workforce... before college, before high school... before school in general. Ever since I was born..."

Sparrow was weeping quietly now. Aribeth felt her stomach twisting out of guilt. She'd had no idea there was trauma like this behind Sparrow's pacifism. She wouldn't have pressed the issue had she just known. She took a moment to think back and imagine herself in the same situation. The mental images she conjured up weren't pleasant.

Aribeth went down on one knee, looking up at the teary-eyed troll and smiled the gentlest smile she could. "Hey, hey... it's okay. I'm sorry, I didn't know it was this mentally hard for you. How about from now on we'll file you under 'noncombatant' when we're planning our runs. How's that sound?"

Sparrow sniffed, looking Aribeth in the eyes.

"Is it going to be okay with the others?"

Aribeth placed one hand on Sparrow's knee. "I'll make sure it will be. And don't worry, your secret won't leave this room unless you're the one telling it." She stood up straight and pulled the credstick out of her duster's pocket. "Here."

Sparrow took the stick wordlessly. His eyes were still wet, but the weeping had subsided.

"I'll be seeing you for the next run, I hope?" Aribeth said. Sparrow nodded. "All right. Take care of yourself," she said as she turned to the door. There was an awkward moment when Aribeth had to open all the additional locks before she could leave. Having done that, she gave a little wave at the troll decker as she pushed the door shut.

-0-

BloodHound didn't live in Everett, nor did he live in a dingy small apartment. His studio apartment near Clyde Hill in Bellevue was large, expensive, and had an East facing glass balcony so that every morning, depending on smog levels, the apartment and it's inhabitant were both bathed with sunlight. BloodHound didn't know if there was a more pleasant way of waking up, and if so he didn't care to know. Sun was the bringer of life and that is what BloodHound enjoyed: life.

The apartment had a large kitchen with enough table space to seat close to ten visitors. The kitchen appliances were not all shiny and new anymore, but otherwise they were spotless. BloodHound didn't have any paid help when it came to housekeeping, but he took it as a challenge to make things look like that all by himself. In one corner sat his king sized bed, made from mahogany. Over his bed was hung a Winchester model 201 double-barreled shotgun with an intricate wooden finish. The firearm was half decoration and half insurance, BloodHound kept it loaded at all times. Nothing feels quite as good during a house invasion when you've got a loaded and powerful firearm at an arm's reach. He did have a revolver in his nightstand's drawer as well, after all, the shotgun only had two shots in it.

The tall man was currently sauntering around his apartment in his boxer briefs. He had packed his jacket, stained earlier by an improvised projectile weapon, into a dry cleaning bag. On a second thought he had gone and packed the rest of his suit with it, thinking that showing up for an evening with a friend in the same clothes he'd just been working in would be a boorish move. He had then taken a shower and had just dried himself and put on fresh underwear. He then picked up his commlink, selecting it's music player feature and connecting it to a pair of loudspeakers he had near his bed. He selected a playlist and a concerto by 17th-century composer Antonio Vivaldi begun resonating in the apartment. _La Primavera_, Spring.

With soft footsteps BloodHound waltzed around his apartment for a minute, his eyes closed, enjoying the music. He let it guide him to his wardrobe. He threw it's mirror doors open, running his hand through the selection of suits and a few select articles of more casual clothing. Sometimes even a man of taste and culture felt like watching trid in a pair of slacks and little else.

BloodHound tapped his chin, deep in thought. He finally decided on a deep blue Mortimer of London pinstripe suit with a matching tie, a white shirt made of Egyptian cotton and brown leather shoes. He slipped into his suit, fastening his belt and buttoning his vest, but did not put on his jacket quite yet. First, he pulled on a leather rigging for under arm pistol holsters on both sides. Only after that he put his jacket on, one lined with kevlar like most of his jackets were.

He closed his wardrobe and stepped over to an equally large and important closet next to it. Pulling the doors open he was greeted by his large collection of firearms. As his eyes rested on the closetful of beautiful chrome, his commlink went quiet for a second until it began playing the second concerto on the list. _L'estate_, Summer. A song named after the warmest time of the year felt fitting since BloodHound was in the process of picking up some 'heat'. His rifles and shotguns would be sitting the evening out, as concealment was key when keeping up the appearance of your average Joe. His pistols were arranged neatly in two rows, starting from the smaller .22 holdout pistols and ending in the massive Ruger Super Warhawk. He ran his fingertips along the backs of the guns, but on some level, he knew he'd made his choice even before opening the closet. A pair of Savalette Guardians rested near the end of the second row. They were among the oldest firearms he owned, and he liked to call them 'the twins'. He wrapped his fingers around their handles and pulled them out, bringing them up to his face. The smell of gun oil grazed his olfactory nerve cells, causing a spark of pleasure to ignite in his brains. He shuddered.

"Ladies," he said to the guns as he secured them on his holsters. He then pulled a sock drawer open, though it was filled with ammunition instead of socks. He proceeded to slowly and gently load both pistols, humming to himself along with the tune of Vivaldi's music.

He was still humming as he waited for 'Roo to arrive, standing out in front of his building and leaning on a street light. He could hear the Aussie before seeing her. And that wasn't just because he had an excellent hearing, the loud roar of her Humvee's engine rarely met it's equal while within the confine's of the metroplex. The next thing he picked up was the fast, rhythmic beat of music, more precisely Russian hard bass. 'Roo had fallen for that obnoxious musical genre a few years back and had outfitted her car with speakers to match the volume she liked. It took a minute for 'Roo to catch up with the sound of her approach, her tires screeching as she achieved drift with the monstrous automobile. She hit her brakes hard as she neared BloodHound, coming to a screeching halt.

As he climbed on to the passenger's side, he was a tad peeved that the rigger hadn't bothered to dress up, still wearing her clothes from earlier. She had done her hair though, as it stood up in a rockabilly pompadour usually worn by men. He reached to lower the music's volume so the two could talk.

"I don't know much about cars," he said as 'Roo stepped on the accelerator. "But even I know those tires of yours can't be cheap. What's the point in wearing them out like that?"

"Hah!" was the ork's initial reply. "Screw you, _**Dad**_, I do what I want." That got a chuckle out of BloodHound.

"I thought you'd come to pick me up in a taxi. Then you wouldn't have to be the designated driver."

'Roo shook her head. "Nah, it's all right. Couple of days ago I wrote up a program that'll drive the car home safely without me havin' to touch the wheel. As long as we don't run into any rogue deckers, we'll be cool as bananas." BloodHound nodded approvingly.

"So where are we going?" he asked.

"Bosco's, it's in Downtown, just west off of Capitol Hill."

BloodHound eyed 'Roo's attire once again. "I'm guessing there's not much of a dress code?"

'Roo shook her head once more. "It's a sports bar 'n' grill, run by elves and primarily frequented by elves. I've been thinkin' about checkin' it out 'n' there's a fight on pay-per-view tonight I wanna see."

"Ah, of course, sports. It's not that there's an off chance you get to hit on athletic elven women on the side?" BloodHound said with a chuckle. 'Roo grinned in response.

"Sorry if you feel overdressed for the occasion," she said.

BloodHound brushed some non-existent dust off of his shoulder. "There's no such thing."

Bosco's was an unassuming place, not exactly small but not really the size to be called big either. The restaurant had dark parquet flooring, the walls and ceiling were likewise if not made of wood, then at least had a wooden finish. The whole place had a very rustic look, and a very faint smokey smell sold the restaurant's homey ambiance. The bar was near the entrance, across the floor were a couple booth's which, judging from the attire of the patrons, were reserved for VIPs. A little further there was a small dining area which seemed to be nearly full. Most of the customers were elves, as one might expect. There were a few humans sprinkled here and there, and one of the booths held a party made out of mostly humans, two elves and even one ork. Said party was making a lot of noise, the ork's deep bellowing laughter could be heard from the street.

A hostess, a young looking blonde elf, approached the runner duo as soon as they stepped in.

"Welcome to Bosco's. Do you have a reservation?"

'Roo waved a dismissive hand at the elf. "Nah, we'll sit by the bar."

And sit by the bar they did. The bar was mostly empty, the only other person was an elven man dressed up like a salaryman, hanging his head low and nursing a glass of whiskey. He had the air of a man who'd just received his pink slip, proving that not every elf was a beautiful and successful _übermensch_. The bartender was yet another elf, a muscular man with a crew cut brown hair and hard looking eyes. He wore a dress shirt with the top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up to the elbow, showing a large UCAS Marine Corps tattoo on his right forearm.

The runner's both ordered steak sandwiches, BloodHound's rare and 'Roo's well done. While waiting they ordered drinks, a pint of Guinness for the human and a bottle of imported Tir Tairngire cider for the ork. Sampling their drinks, the two turned their attention to the far end of the bar where a trid player stood, currently showing an MMA fight between two human men.

"So when's this fight going on you mentioned?" BloodHound inquired as he sipped his dry stout.

"It's not on for another hour. It's the augmented heavyweight title match, champion Caesar Braga faces up 'n' comer Zack Gomes. Spoiler alert, the champ's going to win," 'Roo said with a sly grin.

"You're sure about that? I heard Gomes has been eating the whole heavyweight division for breakfast."

'Roo rolled her eyes and took a big swig from her bottle. "This generation of heavyweights is the worst in recent memory, excluding the champ," she said after swallowing. "The champ's got ten years on Gomes, 'n' at thirty-five he's still in his prime. Gomes is headed straight towards a big Brazilian brick wall, 'n' when Braga wins I'll be collecting my money."

"You're gambling again? Imagine my shock," BloodHound chuckled, his eyes still on the trid where one of the fighters was hit with a roundhouse kick on the face, promptly getting knocked out. He winced a bit at the blow.

"Sure am! Called my bookie as soon as I got home, those two thousand nuyen came in handy."

BloodHound coughed and sputtered as he barely avoided a spit take, having just taken a sip from his pint. He turned to 'Roo, looking like the ork had just sprouted a second head.

"You bet two thousand on the fight?" he said, hoping 'Roo had mistakenly said a larger number than she meant. Based on the smug grin she had, there had been no mistake.

"Yep! The champ's a serious underdog, everyone's betting on Gomes. Well, everyone but me," she chuckled.

BloodHound just stared at 'Roo, who herself turned her attention back to the trid. The man's slack-jaw didn't shut until a few moments later when their sandwiches arrived, which snapped him out of it. He glanced at his meal but turned to 'Roo again, the ork wasting no time in digging into her's.

"Pardon my French, but what the fuck 'Roo?"

'Roo looked at BloodHound from the corner of her eye and shrugged while swallowing a bite. "What? So I bet a little more than usual, it's not like there's any real risk I'm going to lose that money. Trust me, this ain't my first rodeo."

"No, and losing the bet wouldn't be one either," he said with a small huff, finally turning to his sandwich. He went for a bite, but put the sandwich down again. "Seriously 'Roo, what's your plan if the match doesn't go your way?"

"I wish you'd stop patronizing me," she replied with her mouth full, fortunately she swallowed before continuing. "You're not my dad, nor are you any other kind of arbiter of my life. My decisions, my consequences. Either way, I'll manage."

BloodHound was about to say something but opted to instead take a bite of his sandwich. He was older than 'Roo and did in some way feel protective of the ork, but at the same time, he valued her companionship and didn't wish to escalate things to an actual argument. Besides, people should be allowed to make their own mistakes, though in 'Roo's case he wasn't sure if the rigger would actually learn anything from losing the money she'd bet.

An awkward silence fell on the two runners for a couple of minutes as they silently ate their sandwiches. They were still silent when a new patron approached the bar, dressed in a simple white skirt suit. She was one of the elves in the booth, from the same party as the lone ork in the restaurant. She looked young. She had a brownish red bob cut which framed her pretty face very nicely. Her grey eyes went well with her pale skin, the paleness of which made her freckles stand out that much more. Her lips were full and red with lipstick, beautiful even in the frown she had them in. She had her commlink out and begun listing out a large order for drinks, apparently for the whole table. She had a demure, very clearly exhausted voice. Everyone at the booth seemed to be enjoying themselves, but she clearly wanted to be somewhere else.

"Hey Sheila," 'Roo spoke up, placing the remains of her sandwich down on her plate and turning on her bar stool to face the elf. "Why the long face? Aren't you guys celebrating a hostile takeover or something?"

The girl turned to 'Roo, blinking a few times. "U-umm..." She cleared her throat. "Well, not precisely. It was..." She paused, searching for words. "My boss is the chief legal officer for DocWagon's Seattle branch," she said, pointing at the ork. "There was a big legal battle that we won and now we're celebrating. Well, he and the others are anyway. I'm just an intern." She paused for a moment, then frowned. "And my name isn't 'Sheila', thank you very much."

The initial cold shoulder didn't dissuade 'Roo. "So is this what you thought working under a big shot lawyer would be like? Ferrying drinks for said lawyer when someone with your brains could be doing so much more? 'n' I bet he doesn't know how to keep his hands to himself."

That last part caused the elf to tense up, he face turning a shade redder while BloodHound muttered under his breath: "Pot, meet kettle..."

"He's just... he's just very friendly," the elf replied. "Some people might not like that but I don't mind," she continued, not fooling anyone, least of all herself.

'Roo gave the elf a sideways look. "Come on now. You don't even believe that yourself." She patted the stool next to her. "Take a seat Sheila, let me give you a crash course on how to deal with pushy orks. I'm an expert on the subject, being one myself."

The elf regarded 'Roo for a moment, glancing at the bartender still pouring drinks and then back a the booth, where the rest of her party was laughing and hollering. She gingerly sat down next to 'Roo.

"I told you my name isn't Sheila, it's Lucy."

"Sorry Sheila, I'll try to remember that," 'Roo said, causing a small wrinkle to pop up on Lucy's brow. "My name is 'Roo, by the way, this here is BloodHound," she said, pointing behind her with her thumb. BloodHound turned towards the two women and lifted his pint in a form of acknowledgment, then turning back to face the bar and enjoy his drink.

"'Roo? BloodHound? What kind of-" A sudden realization flashed in her eyes. "You're shadowrunners."

'Roo flashed a toothy grin. "Guilty as charged. Now, on the subject at hand. The quickest way to handle a 'handsy' ork is to deck them on the nose, plain and simple. Of course in your case, you might wanna give your boss a warning or two. I wouldn't, but then again I don't have a boss," she explained, letting out a short laugh.

"I-I couldn't possibly... hit my boss, that's crazy! A-and why should I take any advice from you? You guys are criminals!" Lucy raised her voice as she stood up, seeing the bartender finish loading an assortment of drinks on a tray for her.

"Mercenary operatives," 'Roo corrects. "And I personally have never been prosecuted for so much as a parking ticket, so that makes me no more criminal than you. Sure, I don't get a dental plan but I get to make my own hours, not pay taxes and sure as hell not get groped by anyone who wants to keep their fingers."

As the elf thought what to say next, the orc came sauntering over. He was blonde and had a grey suit with a blue shirt, his tie having been pulled a little loose. Many orks looked tough by default, this guy was an exception to that. His face wasn't exactly soft, he still had tusks and a protruding brow along with a muscular frame, but he was way less threatening looking than most orks. What stood out most however was the bright, even slightly orange tan he had.

"Hey, Lucy! What's keeping you?" he asked as he ambled to the bar, immediately wrapping an arm around the elf's waist. She seemed immediately uncomfortable, forcing out a smile and a short laugh while squirming, torn between whether to push the ork off and risk her job or just laying back and thinking of England.

Whatever decision she might have come up with, 'Roo stepped in first.

"Oy, is this the guy you were just talkin' about?"

Both Lucy the elf and the ork looked at 'Roo quizzically. Lucy managed to get a "Yes," out before 'Roo continued.

"I dig it, lunch breaks must be a fuckin' hoot. Mighty kind of the big wigs to provide this comb-over having ten dollar suit wearing rugrat face clown to keep you all entertained."

Both the ork and Lucy stared at 'Roo with wide eyes, the ork's jaw dropping. He recovered fast though, letting go of Lucy and stepping closer to 'Roo, lifting an accusatory finger to point at the rigger.

"Hey Barrens trash, do you know who the fuck I am?"

"Well, I heard DocWagon is planning on providing plastic surgery in the future. You must be the guy they hired for the 'before' pictures."

The absurdity of the situation got the better of Lucy, and the elf couldn't help but snicker at the diss. She regretted it immediately, bringing both hands to cover her mouth. The ork glanced at her, and if looks could kill her remains would have fitted in a milk carton. He moved like he was about to slap her, but instead turned back to 'Roo. He was clearly furious, but he managed a forced smile.

"Oh, you think you're being cute, huh?"

'Roo flicked an errant strand of hair off of her face. "Bitch I'm adorable," she shot back.

The man's eye twitched, but to the surprise of everyone, he took a step back, taking a deep breath. He then smiled wider, hooking his thumbs on his belt.

"You know, I ain't even mad. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but at the end of the day, I still make six figures, have better healthcare than ninety-five percent of the populace, and I have every skank at the office falling on my dick. So I can't really be bothered to give a shit about what some gutter dwelling, foul mouth so-stereotypical-it-hurts trog thinks of me. Get back to me in twenty years when I've retired to Hawaii and you're still giving back alley handjobs for chump change, feeling really proud that you can still get guys 'semi-hard'."

Now it was time for 'Roo's eye to twitch. She stood up, taking her bottle in one hand and holding one up with an open palm. "All right, all right. I think we got off the wrong foot here. Mind if I start over?" she asked as she took a long drink from her cider bottle. The man shook his head.

"Psh, you wish, trash. I bet it wouldn't take much of a tip to get jarhead over here to throw you and your friend out on your ass," he replied, nodding towards the bartender. The elf was currently stacking clean glasses on a shelf, but he was clearly paying attention to the procedures.

'Roo, still drinking, shrugged her shoulders as she swallowed the last drop of her cider. She then grabbed the bottle by its neck and backhanded it against the side of the man's head. The bottle shattered, showering the gathered people with glass but no one as badly as the ork. He roared in pain, turning away from 'Roo, bending at the waist and holding the side of his head, now bleeding profusely. The sudden burst of violence took most present by surprise, but naturally not it's instigator. 'Roo stepped forward, grabbing the bent over ork's neck with one hand and the belt on his backside with the other. Dragging him along she gathered speed, moving towards the booth. Once close enough she gave the man a strong pull, letting go of him as he hit the table, sliding over the length of it, dragging and/or breaking plates, glasses, food, drink and utensils with him until he reached the end, slumping off the table on to the bench.

'Roo stood with her hands on her hips, admiring her work. There were yells coming from the man's entourage as well as from the staff, but she was too caught up in the moment to listen. She did react by lifting her fists up in a fighting stance when the other men in the entourage begun closing on on her, grabbing bottles and knives, one of them even reaching inside his jacket for something.

BloodHound had been content to sit this one out, let 'Roo deal with what she had started. But he felt a certain level of commitment to the rigger, having worked with her for a long time. He spun around on his stool and stood up, pulling one of his heavy pistols out and pointing it at the impromptu lynch mob.

"'Roo. I think it's time we vacate the premises." The brandished firearm managed to silence everyone present. The group of men stopped in their tracks, instinctively dropping their weapons and bringing their hands up. As 'Roo turned towards her teammate, the tall man pulled his second pistol and pointed this one towards the bartender as the hard looking elve's hands had begun slowly moving underneath the bar counter.

"And whatever you're reaching for better be another sandwich because you're going to have to eat it." With an annoyed grunt, the bartender brought his hands slowly up.

'Roo turned towards Lucy the intern, the elf standing ramrod stiff, staring at her thoroughly trashed boss. 'Roo took a few sprinting steps towards her, grabbed her by the wrist and ran out with her in tow.

"FUCKING LEG IT MATE!" she hollered. BloodHound followed her outside, keeping his eyes and guns on target until he was out of the door, at which point he holstered his guns and ran for the car with the two women. Lucy was unceremoniously stuffed on the backseat while the runners sat in front, the engine roaring to life as the trio took off.

"Take a detour through Redmond, we'll lose any tails we might get there," BloodHound directed, the rigger nodding in response.

"Right-to, gonna switch the plates up while I'm at it," she responded, reaching for the controls of the air conditioning. Handled in a certain way, instead of controlling what you'd think it would, it instead caused the current license plates to be switched with another pair of plates, one of 'Roo's favorite modifications.

"You were fucking on the ball there, how'd you notice the bartender reaching?"

"I kept a lookout for him from the corner of my eye. When we sat down I caught the smell of weapon oil and gunpowder, figuring they had a firearm under the counter," he replied, propping his elbow against the window and leaning his head on his hand.

"Don't your guns smell of that too?" 'Roo pondered. BloodHound nodded.

"Yes and no. They had used a different kind of oil on their gun, I could smell the difference. Probably a cheaper oil, I tend to go for a pretty high-class brand."

This rather casual dialogue was soon interrupted by the sound of hyperventilating.

"Oh my god," Lucy gasped. "Oh my god oh my god oh my god," she continued, breathing sharply and rapidly. "I've been kidnapped. I've been kidnapped by shadowrunners. You're taking me to Redmond to sell me at the Body Mall." She looked to the sides, moving to grasp the door handle on the passenger's side. Even while panicking, she still had the composure to not throw herself out of a moving car, so she stalled, her eyes darting between the two runners and the door.

"Chillax, we're not kidnapping you," said 'Roo, glancing at the rear-view mirror. "We're just making a little detour through Redmond to make sure Knight Errant isn't on our tail, then we'll take you home. I swear on my car."

This didn't seem to help the elf relax any, but the mention of Knight Errant got a reaction out of her. She pulled a commlink out of her jacket pocket and begun dialing with shaking hands.

"P-police... need to call... help me..." she muttered. BloodHound's hand shot behind him, grabbing the commlink out of Lucy's hand. She yelped and lunged forward, tearing at the man's hair and trying to choke him with one hand while screaming incoherently.

BloodHound glanced at 'Roo with a pained expression. 'Roo smirked, the nodded towards the glove box. "Pink injector, narcojet."

Reaching, BloodHound got the compartment open. Among the tasers, there were several, different colored plastic and steel syringes. He grabbed a pink one and stabbed it in Lucy's arm, through her sleeve. It squirted its payload inside her which only made her scream louder. Slowly but surely her struggling became weaker and weaker, her screaming turning in to slurred mumbling. She let go off BloodHounnd and fell backwards, snickering at the clump of hair she'd pulled out of the man's head. She sprawled on the seat, wriggling her fingers and giggling as she watched the hairs drop from her hand.

BloodHound lifted a brow as he saw her reaction to the drug.

"That... I don't think that was narcojet."

'Roo took the syringe and cursed. "I said the **pink** syringe, this is **magenta**, it's the color for bliss," she said, annoyed that instead of putting the elf to sleep they'd gotten her high.

"Why do you have a pink one and a magenta one? Did you seriously not think this exact situation was bound to happen?"

"Well excuse me for taking an art class or two in my life!"

BloodHound rubbed his temples, sighed and stuffed the syringe back in the compartment. "You know, I could use a hit too, you mind?" he asked as he took out another syringe.

"Don't!" 'Roo exclaimed, snatching the syringe from him. "That's gamma-scopolamine."

"Then why is it too magenta?" he asked, frustrated.

"That's not magenta, that's obviously Mexican pink!"

There was a loud smack as BloodHound slapped his palm on his face. "Red! Blue! Green! Have you ever heard of those?!" he yelled.

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you!"

"You guys are ruining my buzz," drawled Lucy, having fallen over on the backseat. The argument died out soon as the monster of a car burned rubber towards Redmond.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning over at Old Everett was much like the countless morning's the neighborhood had seen before. People working skeleton shifts were dragging their tired bodies home whilst others were just getting started with their work day. But there were those among the populace who had made a conscious choice not to become a wage slave for 'The Man'. On the Southern side of Old Everett, there was a small park with areas dedicated to different recreational activities. Picnic tables, a slide, jungle jim and other playground equipment, as well as two small concrete basketball courts. It wasn't the time of day for neither young or old visitors to the park, most people having either work or school to attend to. But shadowrunners make their own hours.

Boxers fight in a ring, so they do their sparring in one as well. Judoka grapple on a tatami, so they do their randori on one as well. But shadowrunners fought wherever their job took them, and they rarely had the pleasures of a martial arts gym. So it stands to reason that they train in an environment that simulates the situation where they'll be using their skills. One of the basketball courts was serving as a training area, two motorcycles parked near the bleachers.

Aribeth was dressed as casually as usual. Jeans, a loose black hoodie and combat boots, her duster draped over her bike. She was paired off with a young looking ork woman. The ork had olive, Hispanic skin and long messy dark brown hair on all but the left side of her head, which was in a buzz cut. She was wearing black jeans and a grey tank top which showed off her muscular torso, and the fact that her right arm was an obvious cyberarm. She was barefoot, which revealed that her feet and most likely legs as well were cybernetic. She had a lot of cybernetics, but from her muscular build it was obvious she didn't neglect training her remaining flesh. It was hard to say with all the chrome, but she must have had at least 30-40 kilos on Aribeth. Her fleshy left arm had a tattoo of a flock of blackbirds in flight.

The two wore padded MMA gloves, both pairs showing some wear and tear. They were in fighting stances, a sheen of sweat on their brows. Both of them were breathing heavier than normal, but neither was outright panting. Their upper lips bulged out ever so slightly, the sign of mouth guards.

Dashing forward, the ork threw a jab at Aribeth. She brought her left arm up, catching the fist on her palm. Having gauged the distance she threw another jab which was caught like the previous one. She didn't put any weight behind it though and withdrew it the instant it touched Aribeth's palm, using the pulling motion to shift her weight behind the right cross that followed. Aribeth fell for the feint, the ork's metal fist planting itself in the middle of her face.

Aribeth slid her feet along the ground as she took a few steps back to recover, but her sparring partner wasn't about to let her. She dashed forward, bobbing and weaving in a figure 8 pattern to dodge a left hook Aribeth threw in her direction. She threw a short left uppercut in Aribeth's midsection, catching her just under the ribs. Aribeth grit her teeth and took the blow, reaching down with her left arm and pushing against the ork's head, at the same time stepping on her right side and creating some distance between them. The ork let her, snickering. She jumped up and down on the balls of her feet, taking a couple of bigger breaths.

Aribeth herself took several seconds to catch her breath, having lost it from the nasty uppercut. She grunted, twisted her neck from side to side with two audible pops. Then she moved to close the distance, holding her palms open instead of making a fist and turning her right side in front, a southpaw stance. Switching her stance didn't warrant a reaction from her opponent, as she threw another jab to get the distance right again. That was, however, exactly what Aribeth had expected. As the ork's left fist flew forwards, Aribeth brought her left hand up to her face to catch the fist. At the same time, she reached out and turned her right fist thumb down, placing her hand on the right side of the ork's face. Her right leg kicked at her opponent's leading foot as she pulled on her head, pulling her into the direction where her leg had been supporting her but wasn't there anymore.

The younger woman fell on her side, grunting in discomfort. She brought her arms up around her head in case Aribeth was planning on planting a kick or two on her dome. She didn't and instead jumped on her partner's back, wrapping her legs around the ork's thighs and her arm around and behind the woman's throat in a textbook rear naked choke. The ork tried to bring her legs up underneath her, but Aribeth used her legs and waist to force the cybernetic feet straight. The ork reached back and tried to pry Aribeth's arms loose, but soon gave up and tapped on the elf's arm thrice, a sign of submission.

Aribeth released her hold and stood up, offering her hand to the other woman. She took it and stood up as well, both of them removing their mouth guards and taking a moment to breathe.

"So, Niña," said Aribeth. "Do you know what you did wrong there?"

"I gave you two seconds to breathe instead of knocking your socks off?" she offered, smirking a bit. "I was thinking that dude, you're supposed to be teaching me, and you can't do much teaching unconscious."

Aribeth looked down at her feet, grunting. She really had lost her edge. Niña had just recently become a shadowrunner. She had been brought up on the mean streets of Redmond and had joined a gang at a very young age, an all-ork gang called Crimson Crush. She had worked as an enforcer in the gang, and it was the gang that had provided her with all her chrome. She was trying to move up in the world however, and sort of 'graduated' from the streets into shadowrunning. The two women had met through their fixer and Aribeth had offered to give Niña some extra training. Sure she'd learned to fight just in order to survive, but Aribeth had likened her to a sledgehammer. She aimed to turn the ork into a surgical scalpel. It had been going on for a while, and it looked like she'd finally caught up to the elf.

"Yes, there was that. But you also forgot how to escape from an RNC. I'll show you, come on."

Niña stepped behind Aribeth and wrapped her arm around the elf's throat, just like had just been done to her. Her right arm went around Aribeth's throat, grasping her left bicep and using the left hand to push back on the elf's head. Aribeth brought her arms up, reaching back and taking a hold of Niña left arm. She pulled it to the side, immediately easing up the pressure on her throat.

"That's the first step," she said, as with just the arm around her neck the choke lost a lot of power. She then pulled Niña's left arm straight so her elbow was on Aribeth's shoulder, after which she pulled the arm down. This made the elbow of Niña left arm overextend, and could break the joint if she didn't remove herself from the situation. She eased the choke and tapped Aribeth's shoulder again, and the two both took a step away from the other.

"All right all right, I'll keep that in mind," the ork said. "Though so far it hasn't come up like... I don't think ever, dude," she continued, shrugging her shoulders. "Most dudes I've fought take an opportunity like that to soccer kick your head off instead."

"Expect the unexpected. You'll live longer," Aribeth replied. The line received an eye roll from Niña.

"Really dude? What's your next piece of sage advice? 'You are your own worst enemy? Don't think, feel? Every journey begins with the first step? Use the Force?'" the ork asked in a mocking tone.

"Hey, stereotypes exist for a reason. But that's enough of that, let's continue," Aribeth shot back, fitting her mouthguard into her mouth again. Niña followed suit.

The pair continued for another half an hour, which mostly consisted of Niña knocking Aribeth around, with the elf only occasionally getting the upper hand by using a technique Niña wasn't familiar with, being a street-taught brawler. But even those seemed to only work once on the ork, who was a fast learner. They eventually wrapped their training session up as the first few civilians began gathering to the park, intent on using it for its initial purpose. Or sell drugs, that happened a lot too.

"So, any more words of wisdom to bookend the training? 'Wax on, wax off?'"

Aribeth sighed as she slid on her duster, pocketing her gloves and placing her mouthguard in its little box, which she pocketed as well.

"As the amount of violence increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero," she replied. It got a loud bark of laughter from the ork.

"Ok, I'm so stealing that one," she said between chuckles as she stuffed her training gear away and sat on her Harley. "Oh, by the way, did you catch the championship match last night?" the ork asked, turning on the saddle to look at Aribeth.

"No, I was too tired to stay up that long. Besides, I don't really follow MMA. Presumably, something unexpected happened, since you're asking."

The ork shook her head as she slipped her helmet on. "Nah, it went pretty much as everyone thought. Braga, the champ, was ragdolled for two rounds before the dude challenging him choked him out. Too bad you hadn't taught that escape to him."

The women shared a chuckle at that, before revving up their bikes and heading out their separate ways.

-0-

'Roo had chewn her fingernails as short as they went, and hadn't stopped there. This left her with some bloody fingers as she sat in her computer chair in her underwear, staring at the repeated image of one giant of a man absolutely demolishing another giant of a man. Sinking that rear naked choke in place seemed like a mercy. Not merciful towards 'Roo though, it was like every punch and kick took some money from her account, leaving her without the 2000 nuyen she could have used for bills due and her rent for the month, which was also due in just a few days. She was, as she herself would put it, buggered.

'Roos apartment was very much like Sparrow's, almost like they shared a blueprint. Though 'Roos place had even more mechanical knick knacks lying about, several drones standing in attention under her computer table, and even more in several different stages of mechanical vivisection. 'Roo eyed the clutter, doing calculations in her head to estimate how much she could get if she sold her drones. Enough for sure, but it'd leave her with fewer drones, and therefore less useful on the field. She didn't think her team would replace her if she'd be slightly less useful, but if she couldn't do her job properly she'd be putting her teammates in danger. And that she wasn't going to do.

She went through other options. She couldn't borrow money. For one, she'd burned those bridges a long time ago with other 'sure-fire' gambles. The only people she could think of she hadn't borrowed money before were her teammates, and she didn't want to risk souring those relationships. Besides, BloodHound would never let her hear the end of it if she admitted having lost the money. She could try to do some escort jobs... but that was a reputation she didn't want. So, in the end, she came up with just one sure way to cover her ass. Real, honest hard work. So, using her built-in commlink, she called her fixer Lucky Smiles.

Laura "Lucky" Smiles was a dwarf of African ancestry. She was known to the public as an ambulance chasing lawyer, one with affordable rates but not much moral fiber. Through protecting criminals in court, she'd assembled quite a long list of criminal contacts, and she'd had the great idea of bringing criminals together for bigger jobs than what they could achieve by themselves. And so she had transformed into a fixer.

It was around midday on a Saturday, so 'Roo was reasonably confident Lucky was awake. She might not be in the mood for work, but 'Roo had to try. The line rung four times until Lucky picked up.

"'Roo, this was unexpected. Is something bothering you about yesterday's job, or why is it that you've decided to disturb me on my day off?"

'Roo cringed. Lucky sounded friendly enough, but to her, the previous sentence amounted to a giant WHAT aimed at her.

"Ah, it's actually bizzo that I'm callin' about. Do you think you could get us, or even just me, a new job within the next couple days?"

There was a long silence on the line before Lucky's voice sounded again.

"You just finished a job yesterday."

"Yes, yes I did. But, umm... I kinda need to make some quick money." 'Roo imagined hearing Lucky rubbing her brow.

"What was it this time? Poker or Urban Brawl?" she asked, finally sounding as annoyed as 'Roo thought she was.

"Does it really matter?" she replied.

"I suppose not. I'd tell you to make out with an angle grinder, but you've been reliable... well, mostly reliable as long as you've worked for me. So I'll take a look at what I've got, and see if the others feel like working again so quickly. But you owe me a favor, you hear me?"

'Roo did a fist pump, grinning. "Yes! Thanks Lucky, you're the best. 'n' totally, whatever you need, wherever you need it, let me know 'n' I'll make it happen."

"See that you will." The line went silent as Lucky hung up. 'Roo didn't mind the rude finish, she got up and punched the air a few times, hyping herself up. Everything would work out after all.

-0-

Lucky's office was in Southern Bellevue, the second story of a tall business building. The office consisted of three rooms, a waiting area with a secretary's work station, Lucky's office and a conference room. It was the latter where the team had gathered, all sitting at the long table like so many other conference rooms. BloodHound, 'Roo and Sparrow on one side, Sensei and Abribeth on the other. Everyone present had a sour look on their face, except Sensei who beamed calm content, and 'Roo who tried to make herself look smaller than she was. Lucky was at the end of the table with a holographic projector and a commlink in hand. She projected the image of a middle-aged human man with a very thick and shiny head full of black hair. He was wearing a Hawaii shirt, khaki cargo shorts and socks with sandals.

"This here is your Johnson. He's a member of an outfit called 'Tiger Blood'. They're based in Sacramento and are apparently trying to expand to Seattle."

"What's their deal?" asked Aribeth.

"Drugs and weapons as far as I know. I haven't been able to vet them properly, I wouldn't have offered this for you yet had it not been for 'Roo absolutely begging me for a job."

Every head in the room turned to 'Roo, who wished she'd been invisible. "So it's a little extra work... you guys never said 'no' to work before?" If looks could kill, 'Roo would have been carried out of the room in a bucket.

"I do believe the more pressing issue is, what is the job?" Sensei asked, direction attention from 'Roo back to Lucky.

"I don't have the details, he wants to meet you guys personally. But he did tell me the job would be getting rid of some guy. However!" she suddenly shouted, lifting a hand at Sensei who had almost had the time to open his mouth. "However. I told him that wetwork isn't your guys' deal, thanks to Sensei here. He assured me that a clever team could accomplish the task without bloodshed. So I decided to take the offer."

Silence fell into the room as everyone figured what to think of the offer. BloodHound was the first to speak.

"Normally I'd say 'no', but 'Roo needs this. I say 'yes'."

"Eh, sure. Yes." said Aribeth.

Sensei only had to nod, and Sparrow followed suit. 'Roo smiled wide. "Thanks, you guys. You're really doin' me a solid."

-0-

The team set up a meeting with the prospective client on the very same day. "The Mogul" was considered one of the best Indian restaurants in Seattle, situated right in the middle of Bellevue. It was absolutely packed during both lunch- and dinner service, so the meeting was set between those two, around 2 PM. The team was situated in a private booth, excluding Sparrow. The troll had headed home where he could deck for as long as he liked without being disturbed. He had a connection to Aribeth's cybereyes so he'd be clued in on whatever they were discussing.

The Johnson didn't keep the team waiting for long. About two minutes of pretending to look over the menu, the same man they'd seen a holographic image of before stepped inside, still dressed just as garishly. He had added a pair of sunglasses to his ensemble. He smiled as he took a seat across the team, crossing his fingers and leaving his hands on the table.

"So!" he spoke. "Our mutual acquaintance told me that you are a very professional team, which I am hoping is true. This job demands absolute discretion. There can be no signs of foul play or outside tampering, if that happens then your payment is forfeit. You lose. Good day sir. Do I make myself clear?" The whole team nodded in response, their formerly casual demeanor changing as they folded up the menus they had pretended to look over, all of them adopting a serious look as they perked up to listen and pay attention to every word their Johnson was saying.

Mr. Johnson dug into his pocket and produced a small holographic projector. With the press of a button, a small hologram was projected on top of it. It showed an image of a blond man in his late thirties, wearing a Knight Errant uniform. His hair was done in a short crew cut, he was clean shaven and had a strong jawline. At first glance, the team thought they were looking for a model hired by Ares for a recruitment campaign, but nobody voiced their speculation, instead letting Johnson speak.

"This guy here is Jack Murphy. An all-American sweetheart, breezed through college with a wrestling scholarship, enlisted and served in the Marines before joining Knight Errant and becoming a regular pain in my ass. He made detective pretty fast, managing to catch one of my associates boosted his career like you wouldn't believe. And now that we're thinking about expanding to Seattle, of course he asks for a transfer here. At this point I don't even think he did it because he found out about our move, at this point I believe that it's fate that keeps our path's crossing one another."

He shut down the projector and pocketed it before continuing. "I want him gone. But being the Mister Perfect that he is, just ordering a hit on him would get the whole force of Knight Errant on our asses. No, it either has to be a very convincing 'accident', or he needs to have his career destroyed. I don't care which method you use, I just want this motherfucker gone. I'm ready to pay 25000 nuyen for the job."

Without missing a beat, Sensei replied with: "Make it 30k and we'll get his little dog too."

Missing a beat, Johnson looked at the dwarf for a few seconds before sputtering out a short laugh.

"All right, fine. 30. There's no deadline, but if you guys take longer than a month, I'm looking elsewhere for help."

"Umm..." 'Roo spoke up. "I know this is kinda unprofessional, but... could you pay a part in advance? Like 2000 nuyen?"

The Johnson gave 'Roo a look, his eyes impossible to read from behind his sunglasses. He took a long breath and nodded. There was awkwardness in the air as 'Roo gave Johnson her contact info, after which he wired her the money she'd asked for.

He then slid a piece of paper with a number written on it over the table, before making his leave. "Call me when you're done," he said as he left, leaving the team sitting in the booth. The team watched him leave, after which Sensei spoke up.

"Well then. I do believe the first thing to do is to get to know our enemy." He turned to look at Aribeth.

"Sparrow. Do your thing, see what the Matrix tells you." Not being there he couldn't reply directly, but he did manage to make text scroll over Aribeth's eyes. The elf abridged the reply into a raised thumb.

"Aribeth. As soon as Sparrow finds out where he lives, I want you to tail him. His home, his routines, anything we can use." The elf nodded in response as the dwarf turned his attention to the two remaining teammates.

"BloodHound, you've got more connections with organized crime than any of us. Ask around and see if Murphy has already made a name for himself, and if anyone is fixing to take revenge on him. An enemy of our enemy can make for a worthwhile ally. 'Roo, I want you to whip up some small surveillance equipment we can later sneak into his house and other places he frequents." The two nodded as well, after which the four of them stood up and left the booth, then the restaurant. It was time for legwork.

As the group left the bar, BloodHound pulled 'Roo aside. He waited until after Sensei and Aribeth had taken their leave before speaking.

"So, you and that elf girl. What happened after you dropped me off? You didn't..." He gave the ork a hard look. In response, 'Roo blew a raspberry and waved her hand dismissively.

"Of course not. I shoved her into a cab soon after droppin' you off, I'm sure she got home safe. I did swipe her digits while I was at it though. I was thinkin' that maybe someday we'll be able to cack at what happened over a brewski or two."

BloodHound nodded, relieved that 'Roo had her head on straight. Sure, the two of them might be career criminals but date rape was its own type of evil.

"All right then. I guess we've got our job cut out for us."

"Notice how Sensei didn't say what his part was goin' to be? I bet he's off playin' pad with his spirit friends or somethin'," 'Roo said, light mockery in her voice.

BloodHound smiled, chuckling quietly. "I'm sure he's got plans regarding the job that only he can do. See ya." And with that the two parted ways, heading for their respective motor vehicles.


	4. Chapter 4

Aribeth was bored. Tailing people usually became boring after the first few days when you got familiar with the target's routine. He left his two-story home at central Snohomish at 7:30 am, dropping off his teenage daughter and approximately eight-year-old son at their school, leaving his wife to do what wife's do home alone. He clocked in at 8 am, had lunch at Knutson´s Country Home in Downtown every single day, clocked out at 4 pm and headed straight home, except on Wednesday and Friday when he hit the gym after work. On Saturdays, he hit the gym once more and in the evening he had a drink with some friends at The Bawdy Lass, an Irish pub in Snohomish. Excluding the occasional shopping trip or going to see a ballgame with his son, Jack Murphy didn't get out much.

Aribeth had been tailing the detective for two weeks, this being the Tuesday of the third week. She was pretty sure she'd gathered all the information on the man she could, but Sensei had insisted she'd do one more week. Tailing someone for so long wasn't only boring, but it was also dangerous. If Murphy happened to spot Aribeth more than a few times, he'd most likely get suspicious of the bumping into the same elf over and over again. Of course, Aribeth used disguises, but there were only so many faces she could wear. At the moment she was sporting a blonde wig, brown jacket, white blouse a black knee-length skirt and heels and leather gloves. She'd used a heavy layer of makeup to cover the wiring under the skin of her cheek.

Murphy was just finishing his lunch under Aribeth's surveillance. She was sitting at a bus stop on the other side of the road, pretending to read something on her commlink. As Murphy left the diner, Aribeth waited until he'd nearly crossed the block before getting up and following. Murphy was headed for an underground parking garage where he'd left his car, the same garage where Aribeth had left her rental as well. She let the detective disappear from her line of sight as he entered the underground. She knew he'd parked at the far side of the garage and she'd have plenty of time to reach her car before he reached his.

Aribeth slipped into her rental's driver's seat, looking at the back of the garage. Soon she saw familiar headlights heading towards the exit, and it was then she turned the key in the ignition. That was all she could do, however, as just when she shifted the gear on reverse, a black SUV drove behind her and came to a stop, blocking her exit. She got out of her still running car and was ready to yell something at the jerk blocking her, but her words died on her tongue as she read the situation. The driver was a brunette female dwarf, while a blonde ork man was getting out of the passenger's side. The man wore a grey suit, with an armor vest worn under the jacket. On his right hand, he had a taser, which he was bringing up to bear at Aribeth.

Aribeth's brains screamed for her to move, and she did. She dashed forward to cover the few meters between them, but thanks to her choice on footwear she couldn't quite make it before the taser was leveled at her face. The man pulled the trigger and four darts shot out, connected to the taser by wires. Aribeth threw her weight to the right, bouncing off against the car parked next to her. The darts missed her and she was within an arm's reach of the ork before he could draw another weapon.

She threw out her left arm in what seemed like a jab, but she had her fingers flat. The chromed fingers of her cyberarm reached the ork's face and pushed into his right eye, causing him to shout out a curse and recoil to his right. Turning like this he exposed the side of his face to Aribeth, who took advantage. She turned her body and threw out a straight right, hitting the ork right on the jaw. His knees buckled and he fell down on his face on the ground.

Aribeth glanced at the dwarf behind the wheel, who was pointing another taser at her. She quickly lifted her right foot into a roundhouse kick to slam the door shut, and managed to do it just as the taser fired. More darts flew, this time wireless, and they hit the interior of the car door. Having lifted her leg so fast, Aribeth had managed to tore open the side of her skirt. She cared little of that now, her main objective was to get out of here as fast as she could. If she'd had the time, she would have berated herself for not bringing weapons along. She'd grown too comfortable tailing Murphy.

Aribeth took a running step and jumped, sliding over the SUV's hood. She turned to run the moment her feet touched the ground, but just barely had time to react to the driver's side door slamming open, nearly hitting her. The dwarf behind the wheel hurried out from the car, but Aribeth was faster thanks to her many cybernetic augmentations. She landed a hard front kick on the door, causing it to slam into the dwarf much the same way she had tried to slam it on to Aribeth. The dwarf staggered back, giving Aribeth precious few seconds to reach her and kick her taser holding hand, causing her to drop the device. The taser clattered to the floor as the dwarf recovered from the door blow, reaching behind his back. She took two steps back and pulled out an extendable baton, striking the air with it to cause the steel extension to unravel from the handle. She brought it over her shoulder with one hand in front of her, a basic fighting stance when using a baton.

Aribeth gritted her teeth. She just waited to run, but trying to slip past the dwarf could end with a baton to her knee, something she didn't wish for. She'd have to deal with the dwarf first, as much as she didn't want to. She lifted her hands up into a guard while kicking her right foot free of the shoe. Why'd she decided on wearing heels? Stupid. As she did so, the dwarf, who on closer inspection also had an armor vest under her jacket, reached into her pocket. With a grin, she produced and showed a Knight Errant badge, which she quickly pocketed again.

"You are under arrest. Everything you say will be used as an excuse for police brutality," the dwarf said with a sadistic grin.

Aribeth felt like a heavy weight had just been dropped in her stomach. Fighting cops was almost always an unnecessary risk. Suddenly she was very happy she didn't have any weapons on her, as she might have ventilated the ork earlier if she could have. She lifted her left foot up and moved it in a flicking motion, her remaining shoe now flying towards the dwarf's face. She swatted it aside with her left hand, her focus momentarily shifting from Aribeth to the shoe. All Aribeth needed was a moment as she dashed forward, putting all her weight into forward momentum as she landed a front kick in the dwarf's gut. The force of the kick flung the dwarf back ass over tea kettle, but, in a show of unexpected athletism, she ended the roll on her feet, winded from the blow but still very much in the fight.

Aribeth decided to try her chances now and begun sprinting past the dwarf. The shorter woman, however, once again unexpectedly, dashed to intercept Aribeth. She backhanded her baton, aiming it at Aribeth's face. Aribeth brought her left hand up to block the blow. A normal person's forearm would have suffered a broken bone, but Aribeth's cyberarm took the blow with little effect. In response, Aribeth launched another front kick with her right foot, but the dwarf saw it coming. She ducked low, letting the kick fly over her head. She then turned her back to Aribeth, standing up straight and grabbing hold of the leg over her shoulder. With a loud grunt and surprising show of strength, the dwarf threw Aribeth over herself by using her leg as leverage like many judo throws do with an opponent's arm. Aribeth yelped as she went flying, bringing her hands up to protect her face. She slammed on the concrete floor hard, her head hitting her knuckles.

Aribeth rolled over to her back, head still spinning from the sudden throw. The dwarf was walking around her, holding the baton up with apparent bad intentions. Aribeth felt kinda glad she was on her back, had she been standing she'd been too dizzy to do much. She turned herself around, her feet reaching the dwarf's legs. She butt scooted closer to the dwarf's surprise, said surprise allowing her to quickly wrap her right leg around the dwarf's left, followed by a kick to the side of the dwarf's right knee. Losing the knee from underneath her and not able to bring her other leg for support, she fell on her rear. Aribeth reached and captured her opponent's ankle into her armpit while holding her right leg in place, her other foot pushing the back of the dwarf's right knee as far as she could, forcing the copper's legs as far apart as possible and keeping her from standing up. As the dwarf attempted to reach her legs and pry them free, Aribeth wasted no time. She twisted the foot under her arm, forcing it to turn 180° in a way it wasn't supposed to. The dwarf let out a gasp of pain, which was nothing compared to the scream she let out as Aribeth kept twisting, finally causing a crack to emit from the ankle, followed by said scream and trashing from the dwarf.

Aribeth stood up, leaving the dwarf to lay there and vail. She glanced around, spotting several heads popping up between the rows of cars in the garage. Cursing to herself she took off in a run, hauling ass for the next few city blocks before hailing a taxi.

-0-

The Seattle Boxing Gym was as old of an establishment you might guess it to be from the name alone. The 4,500+ square foot gym had a rough, down to earth feel to it. The decor had a lot of concrete and non-painted wood, and iron that you could smell the metal in the air. The gym was packed full more often than not, but on this Tuesday it was nearly empty. A very particular client had paid a good sum of money to make it so, and it was this client whom BloodHound had a meeting with.

Having taken off his shoes, the otherwise sharply dressed BloodHound headed to the crown of the gym, it's boxing ring. There were two small groups of people around the ring. At one corner were two muscular ork men, both wearing boxing shorts and tank tops. Both were also sporting plenty of bruises on their arms and faces, holding ice bags over their injuries. At the opposite corner, there were three human men, all wearing black suits. Two of them were obviously keeping an eye on their surroundings, while the third was holding a small stool, a bucket with a sports drink bottle in it and a towel.

Inside the ring were two more men. One of them a troll, typically large and muscular, also wearing an appropriate boxing outfit, with gloves and headgear, modified so his ram-like horns stuck through. He was up against a dark-haired human with garish, gold-plated cyberarms, wearing track pants and a tank top. He had likewise gloves on but no headgear, which allowed BloodHound to see that the man was sporting a nasty grin. The troll, on the other hand, looked outright angry.

The troll dashed forward towards his opponent. He threw a one-two, followed by several jabs and a hook, but the other man slipped his head past the straight punches and ducked under the hook. As he did so he turned his body, generating a lot of torque in such a small movement. His left fist dug into the troll's right side in a liver blow, causing the troll to gasp and double over in pain. As he did so, the human once again turned his body, this time landing a right uppercut on the troll's lowered face. The strength of the blow caused the troll's head to fly backwards, at which point a left hook struck his temple. The huge troll dropped down on his knees, then on his face.

The human turned his back to the troll as the two orks climbed into the ring, scampering to check out on their fallen comrade. The man spat out his mouthguard and lifted his arms in a frustrated manner.

"Where do you get these guys?!" he shouted at his cornerman, who climbed in to the ring and offered a bottle to the man. He was about to reply, but the other man silenced him by placing his gloved hand on the man's face and pushing him away. Caesar "Chrome" Ciarnellio, son of Don Vince "Numbers" Ciarniello of the Ciarniello crime family, hadn't changed much since the last time BloodHound had met him.

As BloodHound got close to the ring, one of the men standing guard stepped towards him and held up one hand. BloodHound was familiar with the proceedings and lifted up his arms so the goon could frisk him. He let BloodHound keep his commlink, but confiscated from him his pair of Savalette Guardians, a switchblade and a flash-bang grenade. That last one got a "Really?" look out of the goon, to which BloodHound replied with a smile and a shrug. Thusly disarmed, he was allowed to approach Caesar.

Caesar was pulling off his boxing gloves as BloodHound approached, he smiled as he noticed him.

"Still alive are you, you crazy dog," he said with a laugh, smacking BloodHound on the back a little harder than was necessary. BloodHound managed not to be floored by the blow, which he also knew to be characteristic of Caesar.

"Somehow," he replied to Caesar. He glanced at the orks dragging the knocked out troll out of the ring. "Didn't your father ever tell you to pick up on people your own size?" he asked, jokingly.

Caesar laughed as he glanced back for less than a second. "Regular people break too easily. Besides, they're just trogs. It's not like they use their brains anyway."

The open racism might have caused a pause in other men, but as said before, BloodHound was familiar with Caesar.

"Thank you for agreeing to this meeting. Shall we talk here, or..." He let the question hang in the air. Caesar motioned to a nearby bench and the two took a seat, Caesar's goons taking formation around them.

"Yes, you said you were having some problems with a certain police detective?"

BloodHound nodded. "Yes, one Jack Murphy. Recently transferred to Seattle from Sacramento. Have you heard of him?"

Caesar rubbed his chin, then snapped his fingers at one of the goombas. Said grunt stepped closer and turned to Caesar.

"Say, Vinnie, what's the name of that police lieutenant who put your brother in E.R. Murphy?"

"Yes boss, Jack Murphy. It was in a raid of one of our dollhouses."

"I knew I'd heard that name somewhere," Caesar said, waving Vinnie off back to his post. "Yeah, it looks like we've got a problem with Murphy as well. I know Vinnie's brother, Tony's his name. Nice guy, never hurt a fly. Well, unless the fly got in the way of our business, then Tony would break its kneecaps. But other than that, stand up guy."

BloodHound nodded. "It seems we share an interest in getting rid of him. But putting out a hit on a police lieutenant, especially the kind of poster boy I've heard Murphy is, would lead to a backlash from the police."

"Psh, as if the cops could do anything to us," scoffed Caesar. "But if you want to cover your own ass, fine. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking... an accident. But I'm not sure which method we should pursue until I hear more from my team. When I do, can I trust in your help?"

Caesar smacked BloodHound on the back again, BloodHound could swear he felt his teeth rattling. "Of course. But within limits, you understand?"

"Of course. _Grazie mille_."

"_Certamente!_" Caesar replied, giving a third smack on BloodHound's back. He wasn't sure if he could take a fourth, so he quickly got up, collected his weapons and left.

-0-

The shadowrunners had earlier decided the following day to meet up and exchange notes. The team had decided on Normandy Park in West Seattle to be the location of their meeting. Located right next to Elliot Bay, the park was a safe place to hide in plain sight in the afternoon. Beautiful summer day as it was, quite some people had decided to come down and see some actual greenery for a change. Even a diverse group such as the team would be absorbed into the masses without much difficulty. The group had converged around a picnic table, everyone excluding Aribeth. Sensei was checking the time on his commlink as Sparrow, the latest arrival shuffled on the wooden bench. His rear end had grown so accustomed to his soft, custom made computer chair, that he was having trouble being comfortable on the hard wood.

"I don't suppose any of you have been in contact with Aribeth as of late?" he inquired but received only headshakes.

"Oh well, we'll start without her. When or if she does arrive-" Sensei was cut short by a sudden burst of metal music, coming from Sparrow's commlink. The troll dug the device out, lifting a brow as he read the screen.

"Unknown caller. Just a second," he said as he swiped his massive thumb over the touch screen, lifting the commlink to his ear. "Who's this?" he asked, lifting his brow at the reply. "It's Aribeth," he said to the others. "I'll put you on speaker."

"It's me," came a familiar voice from the commlink. "I ran into some trouble. While I was tailing Murphy, I was ambushed by two plain-clothes cops."

"Are you hurt?" asked BloodHound, sincere concern in his voice.

"No, I managed to disable them, they came at me with non-lethal weapons. They didn't even flash a badge at me until after I had laid one of them out."

"I trust you left both of them breathing?" asked Sensei in turn. Aribeth's voice grew clearly frustrated.

"Yes, I did. I'm glad our de facto leader has his priorities in order." Sensei's brow wrinkled but didn't say anything.

"Anyway, I'm going to disappear for a couple of days. I'll send my notes to Sparrow, then I'll toss this commlink, it's a burner. Sparrow, be a dear and see if they've put out an APB on me."

"Of course," replied Sparrow.

"Oh, and Sensei?" Aribeth continued. "Next time an espionage specialist tells you a job is getting dangerous, that means _the job is getting dangerous_. If you're going to keep ignoring my expertise, I might as well find another team. Bye."

An awkward silence fell on the table, broken soon after with the "Ding", signaling the receival of a text message on Sparrow's commlink. Sparrow read it out loud, detailing Jack Murphy's weekly routine.

"There won't be an APB," Sensei said after Sparrow was finished. "She said they didn't identify themselves as police until the fight was already underway. That's the first thing they should have done if the arrest was going to be an official one. My guess that had Aribeth not escaped, she'd found herself in some dark basement being roughed up for information. The real question is... did Murphy know about it?"

BloodHound shook his head. "No, I'd say the real question is why Aribeth was still tailing him. With how structural Murphy's life sounds, doing any more surveillance seems pointless. Aribeth told you as much, didn't she?"

Sensei gave an annoyed look at BloodHound, but it was 'Roo who spoke up next. "Hold on, hold on," she said. "That's a convo for later, once we're done with the job. BloodHound, how did your meetin' go?"

"Caesar promised to help, within limits," he said, turning from Sensei to 'Roo. "The Ciarniellos have a lot of people on their payroll and almost as much who are in debt to them. I'm sure he can provide us a pawn or several if needed. How about you, any new toys?"

"Oh! Right, here." 'Roo dug out from her pink shoulder bag a manila folder. "I ordered and paid for these like a month ago, here they are now." From the folder, she poured on to the table five flesh colored earpieces. "They're waterproof too! So go on, everyone take one. Guess I'll hold on to the one for Aribeth until she comes out from hiding."

"No APB," said Sparrow as everyone else was fitting their earpiece on, the troll was looking at his commlink. "Not even an arrest warrant for anyone fitting her description. At least the cruiser I backdoored into earlier hasn't received one."

"See?" said Sensei. "We might be up for a more dangerous foe than we thought."

BloodHound nodded his head, rubbing his chin in thought.

"I don't know if this will help, but I did some digging, looking into Murphy's medical history," said Sparrow. "It turns out that he's allergic to most form of antibiotics, there's an extremely short list of what he can have."

"How allergic?" asked 'Roo.

"Fatally," replied Sparrow. A silence fell on the table as everyone took this new info in.

"Umm, I've got an idea?" said 'Roo, more question than a statement.

"Let's hear it then," said Sensei.

"Well, he goes to the gym a lot, right? How about you two," she pointed at BloodHound and Sensei. "go at the same time, only Sensei either goes in or turns invisible at some point. You can do that, right?"

Sensei nodded.

"So, once you're in the showers with him, BloodHound, uh, well, drops the soap." She frowned as the tall man snickered at her choice of words. "Then Sensei uses the same spell he used to levitate the crazy ork durin' our last job, only you move the soap under Murphy's foot. He falls over and hopefully hurts himself bad enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. Once he's there, we get one of Ciarniellos people to slip in 'n' give him a shot of antibiotics that he's allergic to."

Everyone listened intently, and it was Sensei who first spoke. "I'm sorry, but I thought the reason we took this job was that there was room for a non-lethal option. I'm afraid this plan of yours isn't suitable."

BloodHound turned to Sensei, scowling. "Murphy lost his opportunity for a non-lethal option when his people attacked Aribeth. It's like you said, he's dangerous. I say we deal with him permanently."

"And I say, as the team leader," Sensei replied. "that we don't kill a father of two simply for looking out for his own safety."

"Then I call for a vote. Whoever thinks we should put Murphy down, raise your hand," said BloodHound, lifting his hand up. 'Roo looked between the two men, then raised her hand. All eyes fell on Sparrow. The decker swallowed audibly but did not raise his hand. "I'd personally preferred if we didn't, but..." Sparrow shifted on his seat. "Just putting it out there, if Aribeth were here? She'd have her hand up."

"So it's decided, three-on-two. We're killing the man," BloodHound declared as he and 'Roo lowered their hands.

"You'd better call Lucky, then," said Sensei as he stood up. "You'll need to find a replacement mage. Call me again when you've decided to take on a job that doesn't require murder." And with that, he turned and walked away. 'Roo called after the dwarf, but he didn't look back. 'Roo groaned, leaning against the table. "That went swimmingly."

"I'll call Lucky, see if she can find someone on such short notice. Meeting adjourned, I suppose."

The team said their goodbyes and left the park, BloodHound on his bike and Sparrow hitching a ride with 'Roo.


	5. Chapter 5

The team, excluding Sensei and Aribeth, had once again converged at Lucky Smiles' office, again in the conference room. Sitting around the table, everyone was looking at sheets of paper Lucky had just handed out. They were arrest records that came with mugshots of a young looking, bald, dark-skinned elf male. Any mention of the subject's name had been blacked out, leaving only the description of the incident. Apparently, the man had committed indecent exposure like it was going out of style, and lead the authorities on a lengthy chase.

"I managed to snare this guy a few weeks ago. He's a mage following the Vodou tradition. Unlike most mages, the spirits he summons must possess a body in order to affect the material world. He'd let one possess himself, an apparently the spirit in question was somewhat of a party animal. I managed to get him out with a slap on the wrist though, passing the incident as a form of religious practice. Though that's not likely to fly a second time, I did tell him to be more careful with his summonings from now on."

"What makes you think he's a fitting addition to our team?" BloodHound asked. "Indecent exposure doesn't really shout 'possible shadowrunner'."

"Well, while talking about his case I managed to dig out some useful information. Turn out he used to work as magical muscle for the Ciarniellos. He's been tested in combat and is still breathing."

Bloodhound sighed. "Ciarniellos seem to be coming up often as of late."

"I think he sounds fine," 'Roo voiced her opinion. "When can we meet him?"

"Right away," said Lucky with a mischievous smile on her face.

At that, the chair at the end of the conference table spun around to face the trio of shadowrunners. An elf man, familiar from the picture, appeared suddenly sitting on the chair, leaning back with his legs crossed. He was dressed in pinstripe vest and pants, a long overcoat, dress shoes and an honest to god top hat. He had painted his face white to resemble a skull. On his right hand, he had a thick wooden cane with an eight-ball as a handle. He flashed a pearly white smile at the others, lifting his hat slightly at them.

"_Bonjour mes amis_. Doctor Goodnight, at your service."

The trio nearly jumped out of their pants at the sudden surprise which, after the initial startle, got a laugh out of BloodHound. 'Roo and Sparrow gave the gunslinger a worried look. BloodHound didn't even notice, clapping his hands.

"Bravo! I couldn't even smell you."

"Lucky told me you had someone with a good nose in your team, so I took precautions. Didn't want to ruin my first impression," said the dark-skinned elf, pulling a steel cigarette case from his pocket. He placed one cig between his lips and set the tip alight with a snap of his fingers.

"Those will kill you, you know," said 'Roo.

"Not today," replied Goodnight, still smiling.

"So, other than what you just showed, what skills will you be bringing to the team?" asked BloodHound, his laughter had finally subsided.

"Well, I can throw ice and fire around," Goodnight said. "I can throw pure force around as well, and put people to sleep. I can do some mind reading too, provided I can touch the person I'm reading. I can heal wounds and increase a person's reflexes enough to dodge bullets. I personally never leave home without that spell active. I can levitate things and mask myself well enough to fool even technological sensors. And that's just magic, I also tend to have an excellent way with words."

"How about spirits?" asked 'Roo. "Lucky told us that you let them possess you."

Goodnight nodded. "In order to receive gifts, in the form of services, from the loa, I have to occasionally let them ride around in my body. It won't be a problem, I promise," he said, making the sign of a cross over his chest.

Satisfied with the magician's sales pitch, the team ran their plan by Goodnight. He had little to add, only that he wouldn't even have to be invisible to pull off the trick with the soap.

"Moving a soap over an already slippery surface won't take me more effort than scratching my nose. Any witnesses will be none the wiser."

The plan was underway. The next time Jack Murphy hit the gym, he had two pairs of eyes on him. BloodHound and Goodnight, both in workout clothes, had hit the gym slightly earlier than Murphy usually did, just so they wouldn't strike out as if they were following him. Murphy wasn't alone, he was accompanied by a dark-haired, young male ork. He was rather skinny for an ork, which still made him leaner and fitter than either of the two shadowrunners.

Nearly an hour passed as Murphy and the ork went through their weightlifting routine, the older man clearly coaching and instructing the ork. The two shadowrunners nearly ran into the problem of simply not being able to come up with workouts, especially Goodnight since the mage wasn't one to exercise his body nearly as much as his mind.

"Fake it 'till you make it," was the only advice BloodHound gave the elf. He wasn't being a dick just for the sake of being a dick, he wanted to see how the new guy would function under pressure. Goodnight pulled through, adapting to his surroundings and copying exercises from other gym goers until their target finally headed back to the locker room. BloodHound and an exhausted Goodnight followed close by.

The rest of the operation went smoothly. Once in the showers, BloodHound dropped the soap and Goodnight subtly exert a minimal amount of energy, causing the bar to slide over to Murphy's feet just as the man was stepping back and away from the shower. His leading foot landed solidly on the bar, causing the man to slip spectacularly and fall on his back, hitting his head hard on the tiles.

BloodHound and Goodnight did both an excellent job at acting surprised and concerned, Goodnight even going so far as to actually call DocWagon. While the mage did that and stayed with Murphy and the ork, who was freaking out something fierce, BloodHound got dressed and headed out. After DocWagon picked Murphy up, BloodHound was hot on their heels. He followed them all the way to the hospital, speeding off to find the nearest parking space. Once there he made a quick call to the Ciarniellos, letting them know which hospital Murphy was treated being treated. After that, the team retired to their respective dwellings. Some hours later BloodHound received a message on his commlink which he relayed to his teammates. It was short, a little chillingly so considering it marked the death of a family man, father of two.

"It's done."

-0-

The Body Mall is one of the places in the Redmond Barrens that sees frequent visitors from the outside world. Roughly 25 years ago a group of street doctors banded together with some muscle to take over an abandoned Redmond hospital and open up a chain of body shops. Other doctors soon joined them creating an entire mall where each body shop competes to offer the best prices to its customers.

On the second story of the mall was a bodyshop called "Willow's Ware's". It was run by an old human woman, going by the name Willow. She specialized in cyberlimbs and had been Aribeth's go-to doctor for as long as she'd been in Seattle. At the moment the two women were in the back of the shop, in an operating room. Aribeth laid on a dentist's chair with her cyberarm laid on a small table, with Willow looming over and tinkering with it. She was a short, thin woman, with long blond hair that had its share of grey stripes. She was wearing purple overalls and was casually chatting with Aribeth, both women were laughing at the moment.

"- and the patient's pancreas was never found again!" said Willow, finishing a story that got a belly laugh out of Aribeth. "Anyway, that's how I lost my medical license."

Aribeth chuckled as she calmed down from her laugh, looking down at her arm. Willow had opened it and was installing a new toy for her: cyberblades. One to extend from the back of her hand, other from her elbow. Both had a cutting edge as well as a sharp point, and though they were thin blades like those from a box cutter, they were strong.

"So I take it this little addition to your arsenal means you're not about to retire anytime soon?" Willow asked while working.

"Nah," replied Aribeth. "I'm horrible with money, so putting together a retirement fund is next to impossible. The other way would be to go legit, but there's a reason I chose to run in the shadows. There are people I'd rather avoid for the rest of my life."

Willow nodded, her smile turning somber. "A common enough tale for shadowrunners. But then again, as long as you're running, I'll have one more customer."

Aribeth leaned her head back on the chair. She thought for a moment, what it would be like to go legit. Maybe find a special someone, get hitched, get a mortgage, house, two kids and a dog. She was an elf, she'd have a long time to make that decision. Unless she died before that.

She was brought back to reality with a tingling sensation in her arm, which was Willow re-assembling her limb, having finished with the blades. The arm was in one piece soon enough, and Aribeth lifted it up for inspection. Looking at the arm, there wasn't much new with it. There was a thin slot on the back of her hand, and another at her elbow.

"Try flexing your forearm," instructed Willow. Aribeth didn't have muscles which to flex, but trying to do the same with her cyberarm caused the blades to pop out, one after the other. With a little fiddling, she became familiar with the right movement to pop the blades out. She smiled, pleased with the results.

Recovering her duster, Aribeth slipped Willow a credstick with the agreed fee in it. The two said their goodbyes and Aribeth began heading out to the parking lot. A parked motorbike like hers would be gone in a matter of minutes in most places in the Barrens, but the mall had good security not only inside but outside as well. Aribeth's crotch rocket was right where she had left it, her helmet dangling from the handlebar. She donned the helmet and revved her bike to life, heading North East.

She soon reached her destination, known as the Bargain Basement. Once before the great crash, the neighborhood was home to some of the most exclusive condoplexes and living quarters for the upper crust. With the crash, things went downhill for the area. The buildings were left and decayed, squatters moved and slumlords took over to extort the rent from the inhabitants. Where once one middle-class manager lived, three families are living now, heating their water in pots on stoves, since the automatic systems are long gone or stolen.

It was also a great place to disappear to.

Aribeth parked her bike in front of one of the many dilapidated apartment buildings. Again, leaving it unattended would have been a foolish move, but the "rent" Aribeth paid to stay here also covered looking after her bike. She didn't stay long anyway, making a quick trip to her third-floor hiding place and returning with a gym bag. Climbing on her bike once again, she drove a few blocks North before coming to a stop in front of an old garage with dozens of other motorbikes parked in front of it.

This was the headquarters of Crimson Crush, a mostly ork gang that controlled this area of Redmond. Dressed in their colors of red and gold, several gangers were hanging outside the garage, drinking beer and shooting the shit. They gave mean looks at Aribeth, but nobody moved to stop her as she walked inside. She'd been here before, and they knew she was a "customer". Once inside, Aribeth carefully made her way around various gangers working on bikes, stopping behind a specific ganger and tapping him on the shoulder. The ork, a clearly older, muscular bald man wearing an oily wife beater, turned from his bike to Aribeth.

"Oh, you," he said. "Back for some more?"

Aribeth nodded, opening her gym back and pulling out a credstick which she handed over to the ork. He wiped his hands on his pants leg, accepting the credstick. He then motioned for the elf to follow him as he headed deeper inside the garage.

The ork, Joe was his name, guided Aribeth into a dusty basement. Flipping a switch on the wall brought the light on, showing the basement to be mostly empty, but there was a ton of flattened cardboard boxes covering the ground. Joe walked a bit further as he began limbering himself, spinning his arms and legs to warm up his muscled. Aribeth dropped her duster and pulled her MMA gloves out, slipping them on before she too started to limber up.

Even though she'd gone hiding, Aribeth had not been just lazing around. Having rented an apartment from them, she'd called her contact and asked if they had any exceptionally good hand-to-hand fighters among them, someone she could train with. They had pointed her to Joe's direction. Joe was 36, which was really old for an ork. Of those years he'd spent 15 behind bars for various crimes. While inside he'd been taught how to fight by other inmates, more specifically he'd learned a martial art by the name 52 blocks, a mix of boxing and extremely close quarters combat. Joe was a master of the art. Teaching it outside of prison was taboo, but Joe wasn't teaching Aribeth. He was just her sparring partner. And despite his advanced age, he could put down nine out of ten younger orks in a fight.

After the pair had stretched and loosened up, they approached one another. Aribeth put her fists up, standing slightly on the balls of her feet. Joe's stance was much like the elf's, with the exception that he was more hunched over, his elbows tucked in tight and his fists up in front of his face. The stance was known in the boxing world as the "Peek-a-boo" style, made famous by the 20th-century boxer Mike Tyson. It covered the user's torso, sacrificing his arms to defend from possible stabbings in a prison environment. Aribeth wasn't about to stab Joe, but he used the stance anyway.

Aribeth began slowly advancing towards Joe. She had the advantage when it came to reach, and was planning on attacking the ork's legs from as far as her own legs could reach him. She'd used the same tactic before and remembering that Joe dashed forwards, closing the distance between the two. Aribeth knew from experience that trying to stop the ork's charge wouldn't be easy, with the difference in mass the two had. She tried anyway. She lifted her left leg up, leaning her torso back and kicking forward with her knee. Her aim was to knee Joe from below, hitting his chest and emptying his lungs. But Joe's forearms took the blow and held, pushing Aribeth back. She took a few quick steps to regain her balance, but Joe was already on her. He lashed out with a sharp left hook, which Aribeth blocked by lifting her shoulder up. The punch had a lot of power behind it, aimed to again push Aribeth off balance. But she widened her stance, digging the heel of her left foot into the cardboard boxes, bracing herself against the punch. She stood firm, quickly twisting her body to the right and striking out with her left elbow, the cyberarm striking just above Joe's left eye. Joe lifted his hand to pull Aribeth's arm down, then suddenly pushing forward head first, his bald cranium colliding with the elf's face. Aribeth grunted in pain, twisting her body to the left now and using her full body to push Joe back with her right hand. Joe didn't budge, the push instead moving Aribeth backwards. It created space between the two, which was what Aribeth had been after for anyway.

Aribeth tasted warm blood leaking down from her nose on to her lips. Her nose probably wasn't broken, it didn't hurt enough. Joe hadn't left the clash without injury either, a cut had appeared over his left eye and it was bleeding. Joe didn't seem to mind, and he wasn't about to ask if Aribeth minded either. He advanced once more, this time more slowly as he bobbed his head from side to side. Aribeth glanced down at Joe's legs for a fraction of a second, then stepping forward and kicking Joe's lead foot with her left leg, striking his shin and disturbing his balance. Joe widened his stance as to not fall over and also lifted his arms up to cover his head more, which was a wise move as Aribeth took the opportunity to perform a roundhouse kick aimed at Joe's head. Her shin struck Joe's forearms. It hurt the ork, but a lot less than one taken to the noggin would have. She dropped her foot in front of her, swiftly kicking again with her other leg. Joe turned to face the second kick, taking it with his forearms as well. Aribeth was on the offensive and planned on kicking Joe some more, but the old ork demonstrated why he had been recommended as a sparring partner.

After Aribeth's second kick had landed, Joe quickly wrapped his arms around the extended leg. A quick "fuck" escaped Aribeth's lips as Joe pushed towards her again, only this time she was standing on one leg. She tried to back up, but couldn't keep up with Joe as her center of gravity was moved backwards until it stood on nothing, which caused Aribeth to fall backwards on to her back. She tucked her chin into her chest, so as not to hit the back of her head on the hard ground. Down, but not out, she instinctively wrapped her legs around Joe's waist, keeping him from advancing and mounting her.

Joe, however, seemed content with this position. He sat down on his knees, straightened his back and begun raining down punches on Aribeth's head. Striking down, he was able to bring most of his weight down in every punch. It took Aribeth one of the said punches on the cheek before she moved to counter. As Joe lifted his arm to punch, Aribeth reached up and grabbed that arm's shoulder. This placed her arm in the way of the punch, forcing Joe to push her arm aside before winding up for a punch again, only for Aribeth to repeat the move as she weighed her options as to how to proceed. Joe didn't throw many more punches as they were deflected in such a manner, instead opting for something more pragmatic. He pushed both of Aribeth's arms to the side, bringing his head down and striking with his forehead in the middle of Aribeth's face. This time Aribeth was sure her nose was broken as the familiar pain shot through her. The pain wasn't enough to stun her though, as she quickly brought her arms back in front, wrapping her right arm around Joe's thick neck and pulling his head down into her armpit, performing a flawless guillotine choke. Joe struggled to free himself, but as the pressure from the choke started to get to him, he gently tapped Aribeth on the shoulder. The elf swiftly released Joe and rolled backwards over her shoulders, wincing and gently touching the bridge of her nose.

"It's crooked," said Joe, still on his knees. He wiped some blood out of his eye where it was flowing from the cut above his eye. "Want me to set it?"

"Yes please," Aribeth said as she touched her nose gingerly. Joe stood up and walked over to her, leaning down and gently taking a hold of her nose. Aribeth lifted her hand up, biting on the padding of her MMA glove. There was a crunching sound as Joe set her nose, followed by a muffled curse from the elf as she bit down on the glove.

"Fuck me," Aribeth panted as Joe lifted his hands from her nose. Aribeth was torn between being pissed about the headbutt and being thankful about the dirty tactics, as it prepared her to better counter said tactics if she ever came across them on the streets. And hey, she had won the spar. She was making progress, which was the point.

"Wanna go again?" Joe asked, wiping the blood from his eye again.

"Yes I do," Aribeth replied, standing up.

"You sure? I might hit your nose again," asked Joe.

Aribeth smiled. "You'll just have to set it again if that happens, won't you?"

Joe cracked a small smile, rolling his shoulders as he brought his hands up again, ready for round two.


	6. Chapter 6

BloodHound was stirred from his sleep by an unusual scent his nose caught. Cigarette smoke, in his apartment. He slowly opened his eyes, laying still on his bed and listening. He heard the glass door of his balcony letting out a creak as it was pressed shut. At the corner of his eye, he saw someone at the balcony door, inside the apartment. There wasn't much moonlight, so BloodHound couldn't make out much of the intruder other than he had two arms, two legs, and one head. The intruder turned away from the glass door and begun approaching the bed. BloodHound shut his eyes, pretending to be still asleep. He heard the faint scraping of a blade against its sheath, which was bad news. However, he kept laying still. He had the element of surprise on his side, and he was going to need it to make it out of this predicament alive.

As the intruder came within two meters from the bed, BloodHound sprung in to action. He sat up, tossing his blanket at the intruder. It fell on the intruder, blinding them for a few moments.

"Fuck!" yelled the intruder in a clearly masculine voice as he tossed the blanket off of himself. By now BloodHound had had enough time to stand up on the bed, grab the shotgun from the wall and level it at the intruder. He was dressed in black and had of all things, a gas mask on his face. This kept BloodHound from seeing his face when staring down two barrels of death. BloodHound didn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

The buckshot hit the intruder in the chest. He was flung a meter backwards, falling on his back and dropping the knife which clattered on the floor. BloodHound took in a long breath, adrenaline making his heart pump rapidly. He lowered the shotgun and stepped down from the bed, stopping by his nightstand and retrieving a revolver from its drawer. He tucked it into the pocket of his pajama pants as he walked over to the limp form of the intruder. He was clearly a human, too short for an elf, too tall to be a dwarf and not wide enough to be an ork. He apparently shopped at a military surplus store, judging from the make of his clothes. That or the military had just attempted to assassinate BloodHound, which sounded unlikely. And he absolutely reeked of cigarette smoke. BloodHound jumped a little as the man suddenly coughed. He stepped in to take a closer look, now the hole his buckshot had made on his jacket revealing an armor vest.

BloodHound kept an eye on the intruder as he backed towards his nightstand, where his commlink was. He figured he could pop one in the guy's head and call a contact to get rid of the body, but calling the cops would be a smaller hassle. After all, he was the victim here. He didn't get more than a few steps back when he suddenly heard loud, heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway outside his door. He walked back to the prone intruder to get a better line of sight on the door, just as a massive fist punched a hole in the door. BloodHound's jaw nearly dropped from the show of force as the hand reached further through the hole, finding the door handle and unlocking the door.

"Shit," spat BloodHound as the form of a well over two meters tall, dark-skinned troll crouched down in order to fit the doorway. She was clad in full body armor and was holding a combat axe in her left hand. The first thing she did after entering was glance at the first intruder, smiling as she saw him writhing on the floor, in pain but alive. She then looked at BloodHound, lifter her axe and begun approaching.

BloodHound lifted his shotgun and fired the second barrel. The troll lifted one hand in front of her face and didn't even flinch as she took the buckshot, which either wasn't enough to penetrate her armor, or she had some kind if armor augmentations under it. BloodHound dropped his shotgun and drew his revolver, aiming it at her. This got a laugh from the troll.

"Really nigga? You think that thing is going to work where the 12 gauge failed?"

She had a point. In his mind, BloodHound berated himself for not loading his emergency gun with armor piercing rounds. Then an idea surfaced from his mind. He lowered the gun, aiming it away from the troll... and pointing it at the prone man's head. The troll's smile disappeared.

"You put a bullet in him, I'll carve out your heart and show it to you," the troll growled, her grip on the axe tightening.

"Then you'd better hurry. This ain't the Barrens, around here neighbors take issue with late night gunfights. Knight Errant is probably already on its way."

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. BloodHound hadn't been bluffing, he expected that one of his neighbors would have called the police already. His backup plan was hoping that he could land a headshot on the troll before she cleared the distance between the two of them, make her regret not wearing a helmet. Though the fact that she didn't wear one might have been because she wasn't worried about headshots, which meant that she probably had bone lacing augmentations.

The standoff came to a close after a few tense, quiet minutes, as the blaring of sirens started to become more and more audible. The troll spat on the floor and begun to back off, scowling while she did.

"This isn't the end. I'll find you," she said before disappearing out the doorway, the heavy *thumps* of her running growing more distant before disappearing altogether. BloodHound looked down at the man he shot. He'd curled up into a fetal position, clutching his chest. He probably had more than one broken rib, plus other injuries from you get when you're shot in the chest.

Knight Errant arrived soon after. BloodHound was handcuffed as part of standard procedure to secure the crime scene. Taking statements from him and his neighbors, the cuffs soon came off. Docwagon was called for the perp and BloodHound's shotgun was taken as evidence, though he was assured that he'd get it back soon, as it was a pretty open and shut case of a home invasion gone wrong, and would be handled as soon as the perp had healed enough to stand trial.

The police eventually left, leaving BloodHound alone once more. He wasn't about to go to bed yet, he felt too tense from what had clearly been an attempt at his life. He got dressed in another kevlar lined suit of his and armed himself with the twins. After that, he took up his commlink and made a call to Lucky. It rang for several minutes before Lucky answered.

"BloodHound?" she mumbled, clearly having just woken up. "Why are you calling me at..." A short pause. "... at four in the morning?"

"Someone just broke into my apartment and came after me with a knife. I took him down, after which an axe-wielding troll burst through my door and would have done something very nasty to me if I hadn't had the previous intruder at gunpoint. She left before the cops made it here, but she didn't seem the type to leave things half done."

There was a long silence. The two had come to the same conclusion in their thinking, and spoke in unison: "Shadowrunners."

There was a shuffling sound as Lucky presumably got out of bed. "I'll look into it. While I'm doing that, try to think back the last week or so. Have you pissed off anyone seriously enough that they'd put out a hit on you?" BloodHound scratched his chin. "Well... there was this little bar fight I helped 'Roo out of. The guy she wrecked was apparently some big shot lawyer, maybe he could have gotten my info from when... uh, well we didn't actually stay long enough to pay our bill. So scratch that."

"She's a bad influence on you," Lucky muttered. "I'll see what I can dig out. In the meanwhile, I suggest you find some other place to stay for the time being, in case they come back."

"Roger that," BloodHound replied, and ended the call.

BloodHound packed light. Two sets of clothing, the twins, and one of his "shit just got real" weapons. It was called Krime Boss, a short and stocky, drum fed semiautomatic shotgun. BloodHound had had it modified to enable full automatic fire, making it a true instrument of death. He dressed uncharacteristically un-formally, with jeans and an armored leather jacket. His plan was to head downtown and blend in the crowd, which was easier when you weren't dressed like you're going to the opera. He also traded his commlink for a cheaper backup one in case his regular one had been hacked into. The housing company would take care of the broken door come tomorrow, so, for now, he locked his weapon cabinet and left.

He called a taxi instead of taking his bike, once again in an effort to blend in better. The only real thing sticking out about him was the guitar case he was carrying, containing his shotgun. Once the taxi arrived he headed Downtown, find a hotel and lay low and see what information Lucky could come up with.

-0-

Aribeth had stared her day early. She'd gotten up at 4 am and had just finished taking a shower. Having slipped into a fresh pair of underwear, her ears picked up a worrying sound. Someone was turning a key in the lock of the apartment. She dropped the bra she had just picked up, and silently moved to the bedroom's door, listening in to the hallway which connected the three rooms of the apartment. She heard the lock click open and the tiniest creak when the door was slowly pushed open. There was some whispering, followed by footsteps on the hallway's concrete floor. Aribeth couldn't make out how many sets of steps there were, but was certain there were more than one. Aribeth's heart begun pumping faster as she heard the steps closing in on her. She mentally readied herself for violence and stepped into the hallway as soon as the barrel of a gun entered her vision.

She came face to face with an ork dressed in Crimson Crush's colors, holding an Ingram Smartgun with both hands. The ork was startled by the elf's sudden appearance and didn't have time to react when Aribeth kneed him in the groin. The ork let out a whimper and doubled over, at the same time as Aribeth dropped to one knee. The ork's body covered her from the rest of the intruders, who were three more orks wearing the same colors. Aribeth grabbed the submachine gun from the ork who was still reeling from the low blow. She grabbed the ork's throat with her cyberarm to keep him steady, pointed the gun over his shoulder at the three others and squeezed the trigger.

The suppressed sound of automatic fire filled the apartment, riddling the first ork in the line of three with bullets. He trashed around from the impact and instinctively pulled the trigger of his own Ingram, firing around wildly. Splinters of wood and drywall filled the air as the two remaining orks ducked back into the stairwell. Aribeth took notice of the bloody mess she'd just made of the one ork who fell on to his back, blood spurting from a dozen wounds. They were packing lethal ammo, so whatever reason they were after her, they weren't aiming to take her alive. The ork she was hiding behind collected himself, grabbing Aribeth's gun hand with one hand and grabbing her throat with the other. Aribeth wasn't keen on finding out which of the two was stronger, so she just flexed her cyberarm. The cyberblade on top of her wrist deployed, penetrating in to and piercing the ork's throat. The ork's grip loosened immediately as he gurgled and reached for his throat, at which point Aribeth stood up and kicked the ork back. She saw one of the remaining two orks peeking into the hallway, at which point she took aim and unloaded the rest of the magazine in that general direction. After the gun clicked empty, she dropped it and ducked back into the bedroom, getting out of the line of fire just as the ork began to blindly return fire, not even looking but pointing his gun in the right direction and hoping for the best.

Aribeth's mind raced. While the gangers were busy shooting at nothing, she withdrew her cyberblade, threw on her duster, grabbed her Predator and commlink, and begun planning her next move. There was a fire escape, but it was in the kitchen, across the hallway. She didn't fancy the idea of jumping down from the third floor, and she was outgunned. So fire escape it was. She waited for a pause in the fire before stepping back into the hallway, running towards the kitchen. While doing, so she fired four shots in the orks' direction to make sure they kept their heads down. She made it to the kitchen and headed to the window, pulling it open and stepping on to the grating of the fire escape. Running down the steps of the fire escape, she allowed herself some time to think. Just what in the hell was happening? She'd kept u on her payments for the gang, and didn't recall doing anything to set them off this bad. Something had caused them to come at her with lethal force, and she had no idea what. As she made her way down she decided that the 'why' would have to wait, and she should keep herself focusing on the 'how'.

She made her way to the street level and booked for her bike. She was about to round a corner to the side of the building where her bike was parked, but some instinct in her told her to take it slow. Her running steps turned in to walking as she made it to the corner and took a peek around it. Just her luck, there were two more gangers standing around her bike. They didn't have guns in hand, but Aribeth saw that at least one of them had a large revolver stuffed down the front of his pants.

Aribeth tried to think, but a backward glance showed her that the two orks from the third floor were making their way down the fire escape too. She spat out a "Fuck" as she turned the corner and ran towards her bike, mentally noting that it was a bad idea, but the only one she had. She got within fifty meters of the bike when one of the gangers noticed her. He alerted his companion and both pulled out their heavy revolvers and aimed them at Aribeth. She dropped down on one knee and took aim as well. She knew she was out of the optimal range for handguns, but she was confident she was a better shot than the gangers. Taking aim, Aribeth heard the *whizz* of bullets going past her head as the gangers shot at her. She fired four shots. One hit a ganger in the forehead, exploding the back of his head into red mist. The second and third one missed, the fourth one hitting the remaining ganger in the right shoulder, causing him to fall down. Aribeth stood up and broke into a mad sprint towards her bike. She reached into her pocket and pulled her commlink out, activating a special application Sparrow had made her which started the bike's engine as she got within 10 meters. Jumping on her bike, she burned rubber as she made her escape, accompanied by more shots whizzing past her as the orks from her apartment made it to this side of the building. After making sure she hadn't been followed, she stopped to button her duster up. She didn't want to be pulled over for flashing half the city. Having taken care of that, she headed towards Everett and 'Roo's apartment, hoping the rigger had some clothes that fit her. It'd also be a good place to contact the others and discuss if they'd have to do something about Crimson Crush. Their reputation as a team might suffer if they let stuff like this fly.

-0-

As soon as 'Roo had gotten Aribeth properly clothed, the team gathered, this time in the matrix. BloodHound from a hotel room, 'Roo and Aribeth from the rigger's apartment, Sparrow and Goodnight from their respective dwellings and Lucky from her office.

"So, what have you got for us?" Aribeth was first to ask.

"You're not going to like it," said Lucky with a tense voice. "You guys have all bounties on your heads, 10k a pop. And they aren't interested in live captures."

A silence fell on the group chat. First to break it was BloodHound.

"First things first, who set the bounty?"

"Tiger Blood," replied Lucky.

"Well fuck me dead. Why do those cunts want us killed?" asked 'Roo.

"Tying up loose ends?" offered BloodHound. "A secret is easier to keep if people who know it are dead."

"If that's the case, I'd like to see them try and go after the Ciarnellos since they were a part of it," said Aribeth. "It'd be fun to watch them go to war, but I'd much rather see that guy who hired us to choke on his own blood."

"Jesus, Aribeth," said Goodnight. "He could have been just a middleman. We'll have to find out who's on the top of their organization, cut off the head of the snake. But I got to say, it was an interesting time to join your team."

"Wait..." said Lucky. "There's no bounty on you. You weren't at the Johnson meet. It was..."

A silence fell on the team once more.

"I'll try to contact and warn Sensei. You guys keep me posted on any plans you make." Having said that, Lucky dropped from the call.

"Well, as Goodnight said, we need to find the one behind this and put a bullet in his brain," Aribeth said.

"A-are you sure that's a good idea? Maybe we can negotiate with them," tried Sparrow, ever the one to avoid conflict.

"They tried to kill me and Aribeth. Sensei might be dead or dying as we speak. I think the time for negotiations has passed," said BloodHound, his voice turning cold.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right of course. I'm sorry," said Sparrow. "I'll get hacking, see what I can come up with. I'll start with the number the Johnson gave us, it's most likely a dud but it might lead to something."

"Good," said Aribeth. "BloodHound, you, me, and 'Roo should lay low until we know more. Goodnight, you're not on their radar, we'll use you if we need to do any meatspace reconnaissance. Can you do that?"

"Trust me, I'm a doctor," Goodnight replied. With that, the rest of the team dropped the call as well. In the small Everett apartment, 'Roo turned to Aribeth.

"Wait, I thought you were already laying low when the Crimson Crush came for you. How much lower can you lay?" she asked. The answer came in the form of a punch on the arm.


	7. Chapter 7

The team had formed a semicircle around a hospital bed. They were showing expressions mixed between anger and sadness as they looked upon the unconscious form of Sensei. The dwarf had been shot several times and had come out of surgery just a short time ago. Aribeth and 'Roo had headed to his apartment after Lucky couldn't get in contact with the dwarf. The women had found the general vicinity of his apartment complex surrounded by police tape, with several Knight Errant and Docwagon units present. Sensei had been ambushed by a small team after his bounty, but the dwarf hadn't gone down without a fight. From what they had heard two of the attackers were declared dead on arrival, three others were in critical condition.

Looking on at Sensei with a hardened expression, Aribeth felt a vibration in her pocket. She touched her earpiece to take the call.

"Yes?"  
"It's Lucky," came the dwarf's voice. "The bastards are staying in downtown, at a penthouse suite of the Warwick Hotel."

"Copy that," replied Aribeth.

"How is he?" Lucky asked tentatively.

"He's going to make it," Aribeth said. While such a prognosis hadn't been given yet, Aribeth refused to accept the alternative.

"Okay. I probably won't be able to get any sleep anytime soon, so don't hesitate to call me if there's anything I can do to help in taking those assholes down."

"Actually," responded Aribeth. "Could you send someone over to guard him? I don't know if I trust the rent-a-cops here. Someone reliable, who isn't about to cash in on the bounty."

"I know just the guy," said Lucky. "I'll call him right away."

"Thanks, Lucky," Aribeth sighed in relief.

"Null sheen. Talk to ya later."

Aribeth glanced around her at the rest of the team. All eyes were on her.

"Warwick Hotel, penthouse suite." She glanced at a clock on the wall. It was almost 6 pm. "You got an hour to get what you need, then meet up someplace nearby. Sparrow?"

The troll had begun fiddling with his commlink as soon as Aribeth had told the location of their target. "There's a Nukit Burgers one block over. Alleyway behind it?" he asked, looking around. He got a round of nods in response.

"Good. Look up any additional info on the hotel that might help us. Does anyone have any questions?" Aribeth asked. She received several looks of grim determination.

"Good. See you there, chummers."

-0-

An hour later, the team assembled in the designated alleyway. BloodHound had changed into one of his better, still armored, suits. Aribeth was still sporting her duster, but underneath she had her chameleon suit, sans the hood. 'Roo had added an armored vest into her ensemble. Doctor Goodnight was wearing the same clothes as before, Sparrow was wearing jeans and a blue hoodie.

"So, Sparrow," said BloodHound. "What have you got for us?" The troll lifted his commlink, bringing his notes up.

"They have a security team of ten on the site 24/7. Also one security mage and a spider."

"That complicates things," said 'Roo. "We have to do somethin' about the security before we can move on the real target."

Aribeth rubbed her chin. "Goodnight, can you summon a spirit that can cause fear? Like, as in magical fear." "Yes I can," he replied. "I need a vessel for it, but in a pinch, I can be the vessel myself."

"I have an idea regarding that. BloodHound, how much ammo do you have?"

The tall man shifted the guitar case on his back. "Two clips for the twins each, two drums for my shotgun."

"Enough to kick ass, then. Alright then, here's the plan..."

-0-

The janitor was whistling an old tune as he opened the service door, trash bags in both hands as he stepped into the alley behind the hotel. Heading to the large plastic trash bins, he was surprised to find a pair of biracial elves in his way, furiously making out. He chuckled before clearing his throat and speaking up.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you, Chocolate and Vanilla. But I need you to step aside for a moment."

The two elves broke their embrace, turning towards the janitor with embarrassed smiles.

"I'm terribly sorry about this," said the man, dressed in a suit and top hat.

"No no, think nothing of it," the janitor reassured him while walking between them.

"No, I mean sorry about this," Goodnight said, lifting a hand and casting a high force Stunball at the man. It hit home and the man began falling over, unconscious. Goodnight released the invisibility spell just as Sparrow caught the falling man in his meaty paws, carefully seating him next to the bin, leaning against the wall.

Aribeth discarded her duster, handing it to Sparrow. She pulled up the hood of her chameleon suit, her sleek outline while wearing it only disturbed by the pistol and knife she was carrying.

"You taste like cigarettes," noted Aribeth. "I've been six months without smoking and now I _really_ want one."

"Sorry," said the doctor a little sheepishly. "But the plan worked, didn't it?"

"I'll give you that much," she replied. "Okay then, do your thing."

Goodnight kneeled next to the seated janitor. He closed his eyes and lifted a hand, placing it on the man's forehead. He muttered a few words before lifting his hand and standing up, backing a few steps. The janitor opened his eyes, which flashed with white light for a moment before settling back down into their normal color. He glanced around before standing up.

"Erzulie the Blessed," Goodnight addressed the spirit inside the janitor. "I require your assistance today, to protect children from losing their parents. Will you aid me?" He bowed deeply as he waited to a reply.

A motherly smile spread on the janitor's face. The spirit guiding him put a hand on Goodnight's shoulder. "Of course, my child. Show me how."

Using the janitor's keys, Goodnight opened the service door. He motioned inside. "The large fellow will tell you what to do. Sparrow, get to it," he said, handing the keys to the troll. Sparrow nodded and trudged inside with the spirit in tow, his cyberdeck dangling from a strap across his shoulders. Goodnight left his cane in between the door and the frame, keeping it open a fraction. He then turned to Aribeth.

"Ready?"

"Yep. Go ahead, magic man."

Goodnight cast two spells. The first one was to make Aribeth invisible as Sparrow had been before. The second one was to levitate the she-elf up high, all the way to the roof. After dropping Aribeth off, Goodnight released both spells and wiped beads of sweat from his brow. He then picked up his cane and headed inside after the spirit-troll duo.

-0-

Harper savored the burn of the fine single malt on his tongue before swallowing it, exhaling in an almost sensual way. Life had been good to him lately. The move to Seattle had been relatively painless, Jack Murphy was dead and the runners who did it were living on borrowed time. He wasn't an impatient man by nature, but even so, he thought that maybe he should increase the bounty to get it done faster. Oh well, whatever he'd decide on, that'd be tomorrow. He had a few other hits to plan too, so tomorrow would be a busy day. But now it was time to relax.

He wasn't alone in the suite. Six of his closest associates were lounging around, in varying state of sobriety. One was sprawled on a couch, lost in some BTL. Next to him was another one, snorting novacoke from an elven prostitute's cleavage. The others were playing high-stakes poker while drinking and popping whatever happened to be their drug of choice. Harper stood up from his mahogany desk and walked over to the large window, looking over Seattle. His garish Hawaiian t-shirt reflected from the glass as he eyed his future kingdom.

"Seattle, you better bite the pillow. I'm going in dry," he mused to himself while sipping on his whiskey.

And then electricity cut off for the whole floor.

-0-

Sparrow, with some help from 'Roo, had tampered with the building's massive junction box to completely cut the top floor out of electricity.

"Thanks, 'Roo. I got it from here on," he said into his earpiece.

"No problem mate, just be careful with the next part," 'Roo replied, currently driving around the couple blocks surrounding the hotel, ready to rush in and be the getaway driver when one was inevitably needed.

"Will do." He shut the box's cover and begun moving through the basement. After a bit of searching, he found the janitor's... well, calling it an office would be a bit much, but that's the first thing that came to mind. He moved to the computer terminal and linked his cyberdeck into the building's network. He took a seat on the floor and put on his VR goggles, switching into hacker mode.

His first action was to send an agent to try and break into the database of the guests' credit information. The spider would most likely notice it soon enough, which was what he was hoping. When the spider was fighting the agent, he wasn't paying attention to Sparrow's much more subtle actions. His second course of action was to hack into the surveillance cameras, as well as the main elevator. Having done so, he sent BloodHound an "OK" to proceed.

-0-

BloodHound walked into the lobby of the hotel. It wasn't exactly bustling at this time of the evening, but there were quite a few well-dressed parties heading to one of the hotel's two restaurants. BloodHound, with his guitar case, headed right to the elevator. He waved at the receptionist, who waved back, and he entered the lift.

Every floor number, sans the ground floor, had a small slit next to it, fitting the room key of the guest using the elevator. This made it so that guests could only go to the floor they were staying in, at least in the elevator. BloodHound wasn't sure if something similar was in the stairwell, but that didn't matter right not. He waited for a few seconds until the light in the penthouse floor number was set alight, the doors closing and the elevator heading up high.

"Nice," mused BloodHound, knowing this was all Sparrow's doing.

The elevator reached the top floor, it's light illuminating the lobby of the floor. BloodHound felt a slight déjà vu effect, bringing back memories from the hospital operation a month ago. He took a penlight from his pocket and stepped into the lobby. He didn't need it since his contacts had thermographic vision, but he didn't want to give that away.

A flashlight was shone in his direction.

"Stop! Who's there?"

BloodHound quickly turned and shone the penlight back at the other man, thus both of them momentarily blinded themselves.

"I'm the electrician. You guys seem to have some trouble here."

"Uh, yeah," said the man. "Can you fix this?"

"Sure thing. Just show me to the nearest employees only door, I should find the junction box from there."

"Uh, okay... I think it's here," he said, motioning BlodHound to follow him. He did.

Looking at the man from behind, he seemed to be a guard. Definitely not hotel staff, he had on a Hawaiian shirt and an armored vest over it. He was carrying a shotgun on one hand. As BloodHound got close to him, the guard turned to look at him. He eyed BloodHound from head to toes before coming to a stop.

"You're not an electrician."

"Sure I am. Watch," he replied, swiftly pulling one of the twins from inside his jacket and shooting the guard in the leg. The Stick-n-Shock round hit, setting a surge of electricity through his body. He spazzed out for a moment before falling down. BloodHound shot him in the leg two more times to be sure. He then discarded his light, pulled the other twin out and headed down the hallway.

-0-

Harper had sat down and waited, sampling some more whiskey as he waited. Power cuts out sometimes, it was certainly something that'd be fixed momentarily. He was content to wait it out with his drink when he suddenly heard a gunshot echoing from the hallway. He dropped the glass from his hand and immediately ducked behind his desk. The two following shots made him pull a small holdout pistol from one of the drawers in his desk.

The prostitute was panicking and hyperventilating behind the couch. Everyone else, not including the one guy still deep in his BTL, begun gathering their weapons and giving wary looks at the door.

"Everyone calm down!" Harper called out as more gunfire erupted in the hallway. "This place has on-site security. They should be here any minute now. If anything comes through that door before then, ventilate it."

And so, they waited. Surely help was on its way.

-0-

"Run that by me one more time son?" Langley asked. The mage was and unagreeable person in the first place, but he had little patience for stupidity. The young man in his armor vest, armed with an HK–227, seemed extremely distressed.

"There's... there's a janitor there. He's... scary."

Langley tried to stare a hole in the young man's head with his laser vision. Oh, right, he didn't have that. Yet. He sighed, then turned to the humanoid-shaped mass of fire levitating next to him.

"Go see what the ruckus is, exterminate any intruders. I'll be along shortly."

The spirit nodded and dematerialized, heading up. Langley headed towards the service elevator the staff used to get up and down the hotel, turning a few corners and passing the whole security team on the way. As he finally turned the last corner, he saw it. The janitor. Old man, with his arms crossed, leaning against the elevator's frame.

And he was absolutely terrifying.

Fear, primal fear, fear that had its base in millions of years of evolution, told him to run. His life was in danger, his life would be snuffed out like a light if he didn't turn and flee right now. Or at least that's what someone was trying to make him feel. He reeled back and took support from the wall, feeling dizzy. He took a deep breath, bringing his mental defenses up and looked at the janitor again. This time he felt the fear, but he let it wash over him, not affecting him. The man hadn't cast a spell. If it _was_ a man. It was something powerful though.

"You!" he called out. "What are you?"

The janitor lifted his brow, clearly impressed at the mage's mental fortitude.

"I am the spirit of Erzulie Mansur. And I can't let you pass. Trust me when I say this, you lack the will to banish me."

Langley wasn't so sure about that. He was confident in his abilities, but the spirit's arrogance made him want to hurt it, not just banish it.

"Don't plan to banish you, old ghost. Just going to kick your ass up between your ears." Having said that, he gathered his will and conjured up the strongest Stunbolt he could without overcasting, and launched it at the spirit. It made most of the way until it begun to waver and kinda just... disappeared a little before hitting the spirit.

"What the..." Langley immediately opened his eyes to the astral, which showed him two things. One, this was indeed a spirit possessing a body. And two, next to it was an invisible mage, who had just counterspelled his stunbolt. An elven mage wearing a stupid tophat.

"Okay then... how about this!" Langley turned sideways and thrust his left hand forward, shooting a bolt of lightning at the mage. This too was dispelled. The elf was smirking at him. Langley bared his teeth and growled, gathering up power for another lightning bolt. He was giving in to his anger and trying to brute force his way through the elf's defenses. Or that's what he wanted the elf to think.

The next bolt fared much like the first one, but it wasn't alone. Just after firing it, Langley turned his other side in front and pulled his Ares Predator from his belt, squeezing the trigger in rapid succession. Goodnight was taken by surprise and got a bullet into his gut for it, and nearly a second one before he could toss himself to one side, breaking the line of sight. The Improved Invisibility spell he'd been holding up was taxing, so he'd sacrificed his reflex enhancing spell for it. Good thing things didn't look quite the way they were on the astral, so the mage's other shots went wide.

Goodnight cursed in French, holding his hand over his gut wound. The spirit looked at him worryingly and almost turned to help, but Goodnight lifted a hand to stop it.

"It's okay, it's okay. You just keep the fear up, I can fix this," he said, and he could. He took a deep breath and focused in a Heal spell, trying to push away the mind-wracking pain. The spell took effect, knitting his flesh closed again and pushing the bullet out. Relief washed over him after having healed his wound, but it wasn't long lasting. He saw the security mage running down the hallway towards him.

Goodnight shot a quick Stumbolt at him, which he had to stop to defend against. He then took cover around the corner, dropped his invisibility and cast his reflex increasing spell. He couldn't make it quite as potent as he would have liked, he was tired from throwing so much magic around today. He saw the pistol's barrel come into view, which prompted him to jump forward. He grabbed the gun with both hands and shoulder checked the mage, pushing him against the wall. They struggled for the gun for a bit until Goodnight managed to cast another spell. Ice spread from his fingers on to the gun, covering its top part completely. Langley managed to knee Goodnight in the gut, pushing him away. He immediately tried to shoot the Vodou mage, but his gun's slide was frozen in place, keeping it from firing. Goodnight smiled, then looked at the spirit.

"Kick his ass," he said, still winded from the knee.

Langley turned to look at the spirit janitor, who winded up and struck a right cross in the middle of Langley's face. His world went dark as he was punched out.

The security team kept taking peeks at the action and saw Langley fall. The elevator was still blocked.

"Fuck it," said one of them. "We're taking the stairs."

"But... but it's on the 20th floor," whined one of them.

-0-

BloodHound had finished clearing up the guards and was at the door to Tiger Blood's den. He put away the twins and took out his Krime Boss when he suddenly felt heat behind him. He turned around to see a spirit of fire floating two meters behind him.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"You can burn," replied the spirit, lifting its hand. A gout of flame shot out from its palm, heat like nothing BloodHound had ever felt. He jumped to the side just in time and the fire hit the doors instead, blowing them from their hinges. Everyone in the room saw the glowing spirit in the darkness.

"Fuck him up!" yelled someone, and everyone in the room began emptying their guns on it. Spirits tend to be a pain to destroy with small arms. But get enough of them and you get the job done. After taking enough punishment to kill most men, the spirit dematerialized. BloodHound got up, dusted himself off and lifted his shotgun.

"My turn." 

There came a *BOOM*. Followed by another *BOOM*. And another, as BloodHound stepped into the room, trigger squeezed down and his automatic fire shredding anyone and anything he hit, thanks to the armor piercing slugs his gun was loaded with.

Harper had seen enough. As BloodHound, now laughing like a maniac, entered the room, he scurried down and crawled out through the destroyed doors. Once there, he broke into a sprint, his eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark now so he could find his way. First things first though. He turned a corner and took out a key card, opening the door to another suite. This was where he had stashed his valuables, in case someone attacked the main 'office'. The room was somehow even darker than the hallway. He fumbled around, calling for the men he had guard this room. He also felt a metallic scent in the air, wondering what that was about. Suddenly something was poked against his chest. He jumped at the surprise, then grabbed the thing. He recognized it as a flashlight. He flicked it on and immediately wished he hadn't.

There were five men in the room. All five laid around the room, their throats, bellies and groin area's cut open or stabbed through. There was so much blood that he couldn't just smell but taste the metal. The large, old-timey safe in the corner of the room was empty. Taking this all in, it took a minute for Harper to realize that someone had given him the flashlight. He turned the light to his side and saw Aribeth standing there, the hood of her chameleon suit down. She held a bloody karambit knife in one hand, and his cyberarm's blades were sticking out.

"Hello, Mister Johnson."

Harper lifted his holdout pistol but dropped it as Aribeth swiftly severed the tendons in his wrist with one swipe of her karambit. He screamed in pain and fell on his ass. Aribeth slid her cyberblades back into her arm, then kneeled down. He took the flashlight Harper had dropped and pointed it at his face.

"You will now take out your commlink. You will call off the bounties on my team. This is the only way you're walking out of here alive."

Harper, in shock after what happened to his wrist, didn't act. It took Aribeth repeating herself a few times, plus a few smacks on the cheeks before the man was collected enough to pull out his commlink and do as he was told.

"S-see?" he asked, showing the screen to Aribeth. The she-elf studied the screen for a bit, then nodding. She swiped her bloody knife on Harper's cargo shorts, then stood up. She sheathed her knife, then took out her pistol and double tapped the man in the forehead.

"Johnson's dead, we're leaving," said Aibeth into her earpiece. "Five minutes, service entrance."

-0-

With the elevators on their side, the team bypassed the security team completely. Within five minutes they all piled into 'Roo's monster of a car, with Sparrow having some trouble but he managed. As they peeled off, the rest of the team spotted something strange. Aribeth was carrying a pillowcase with her.

"What's that all about?" asked BloodHound.

"Well, I took a little detour to kill some more of their guys, when I spotted a large safe in the room. I managed to open it, and it had a ton of credsticks and commlinks in it. I swiped them, and then I heard BloodHound going to town. I took an educated guess that if the Johnson was alive, he'd come for his money before fleeing. So, I waited for him. Got lucky I suppose."

"What type of credsticks are they?" asked 'Roo.

"Seems to be mostly standard, a few silver. Buut..." Aribeth said, dragging out the word. She pulled a credstick out, a type no one present had seen before.

"It's platinum. _And_ it's full."

After a short, shocked silence, the team broke into hooting and hollering, high fives all around. 'Roo laughed so hard she almost veered off the road.


	8. Chapter 8

The team was celebrating their mega-succesfull operation at Banshee, a respectable estabhlisment for Redmond's standards. The bar was packed full, it was karaoke night. It's said that Banshee's patrons couldn't carry tune in a bucket, but no one really sang karaoke because they were good at it. There was more heckling and jeering than applauds, but it was all in good fun. Sparrow had been rightfully concerned about them leaving their ill-gotten loot in the car, but 'Roo assured him that her car had countermeasures in case of a break in.

Aribeth had shocked the whole team when she'd stuck around as the others headed to party. This was the first time she had joined the team for a post-run drink, and even further cemented this night in everyone's mind as something shocking later, when another patron got his turn at karaoke, and sung a slow tempo show tune about "the one that got away". The shock didn't come when Goodnight asked Aribeth to dance. It came when she said yes.

Aribeth wasn't much of a dancer, but the agility, speed and balance her augmentations gave her enabled her to pull the dancing off with raw ability, zero skill. Goodnight didn't seem to mind though, eagerly taking the lead and guiding Aribeth on the dance floor.

"Think they're goin' to do it?" 'Roo asked BloodHound, with a smirk as she watched the two elves dance.

BloodHound shook his head. "It's rare enough for Aribeth to come drinking with us after a job. I doubt she'd go for bedding a team-mate."

"Too not-so-bonza for her then. I'd definately go for him, but as you know I batt for the other team. shame though... tall, dark 'n' handsome. how about you, Sparrow? " she asked teasingly, causing the troll nearly to choke in his drink.

"M-me? No, no, I think I'll pass," he said, looking embarrassed. 'Roo laughed before downing her drink and heading over to the bar for the next one.

BloodHound chatted with Sparrow about this and that, when suddenly a large shadow was cast over him. Judging from Sparrow's facial expression, there was something nasty behind him. He turned to face the shadow, and found himself face-to-face with the same troll he'd seen at his apartment. She was still wearing body armor, but didn't seem to have her axe with her.

"Can I help you?" BloodHound asked, pleasantly.

"You. Me. Outside. Five minutes. Go that?" the troll snarled.

"And why should I do that, when I can stay here and enjoy this lovely pint of Guinness?" BloodHound inquired, taking a sip of said beverage.

"Sure, you can do that. But then she becomes a target," she said, pointing a thumb in 'Roo's direction. "So do the two elves, and this scrawny twig that claims it's a troll."

This got BloodHound's blood boiling, but he kept up his calm mannerism.

"The bounty has been called off. You've got nothing to gain from killing me."

"Fuck the bounty," she replied. "You but my guy in a hospital, and from there, jail. You're going to pay for that."

BloodHound thouht to himself. On one hand, it's be funny to see Aribeth and others put this troll and her associates down. But there were risks involved, so scratch that. He'd have to deal with this himself.

"Okay then. Five minutes."

The troll grunted and headed to the exit.

BloodHound sighed deep. He finished his drink and straightened his tie. He then turned to Sparrow.

"If anyone asks, I'm at the men's room. Okay?" He had a serious look in his eyes. Sparrow nodded in reponse.

"Just... be careful," he added.

BloodHound smiled. "Even if the worst thing happens, she can only kill me once, right?" He patted Sparrow on the shoulder, stood up and headed fo the exit as well.

The parking lot was mostly empty. Among the regular cars, 'Roo's monster of a vehicle stuck out like a sore thumb. He awaited by the humvee's side, keeping his eyes on the enviroment. Soon enough the troll appeared from somewhere in the darkness of the evening, carrying her axe, as well as a tomahawk on her belt.

"Ready to die?"she growled.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied. "My drink's getting warm, so I'd rather wrap this up as soon as possible," he said as he leaned his back against 'Roo's car, looking as casual and relaxed as he could.

This absolutely enraged the troll. Her dark skin turned a few shades redder, and se charged BloodHound, axe held high. The power and speed the axe was moving with made it clear, this wasn't someone relying on just pure strength. She had some skills too. Unfortunatly for her, BloodHound could be a pragmatist when the situation called for it. He ducked to the side on the last moment. The way the blade sunk into the bulletproof glass was actually rather impressive. She was strong, even for a troll.

As the troll struggled to pry her axe loose, a small hatc opened at the back of the car, pushing out what looked like a small tesla coil. It sparked a few times, after which a powerful current of electricity ran over the car's outer frame. The troll spazzed, the shock cramping her muscles and making her grab the axe even tighter as she was shocked by the... well, the shock.

BloodHound had been curious to see what kind of countermeasures 'Roo's car had, and he wasn't disappointed. He watched the troll receive the shock and then fall over. Walking over the smoking, prone troll, he squatted down. He still saw some movement in her eyes, showing that she wasn't completely out. Again, impressive.

"I'm going to back in now. Why don't you lay there and think about what you've done," he said, as patronizing as he could possibly be. He the nstood up and begun to lazily walk back.

He stopped in his tracks when he heard glass crunching, turning around to see the troll up and about, tearing her axe free from the car window. "We. Ain't. Done. Yet," the troll enunciate very clearly, lurching towards BloodHound. The man could hardly believe how tough this troll was. He reached inside his jacket and pullet out the twins, figuring one clip each would incapacitate her. He was just about to squeeze the trigger when the troll took a quick step and swinged her axe. She smacked at BloodHound's hands, knocking the pistols away from him. BloodHound blinked when he couldn't afford it, and the troll's meaty fingers found their way around BloodHound's throat. He gagged as his airway was squeezed shut, feeling like his head was about to be twisted off when she lifted him off the ground with one hand. Her shaky eyes focused on him and a nasty grin spread on her lips as she squeezed harder, lifting her axe for a blow.

Meanwhile inside, the rest of the team was rushing outside. The countermeasures had been programmed to activate the dome camera on top of the car, and sending an alarm 'Roo's commlink. She was first puzzled what had lead to the troll smashing her window, but forgot that when she saw her getting up and starting towards BloodHound. She quickly rounded up the rest of the team and they hurried outside.

They made it just in time to see the troll's axe cut BloodHound's throat.

The whole team was shocked in to silence. The first one to snap out of it was 'Roo, letting out a fierce scream of rage as she sprinted towards the duo. The rest of the team followed behind her, their shock turning in to fury.

The troll tossed BloodHound aside, the man was grasping at his throat. Blood flowed from his neck like a river. He lad on the ground, in shock. The troll turned to face her new attacker, lifting her axe in to a ready position. She was just getting ready to swing at the charging ork's head, when she felt her axe stuck. She glanced at it in confusion as it suddenly wouldn't budge, completely unaware of the Levitation spell Goonight had just cast on it. The elf's magic struggled against the troll's brute strength, but his spell held.

'Roo made it within striking distance. She threw a punch at the troll, but her fist was caught in the meaty fist of the troll. Noticing how her axe was compromised, she'd let go of it and turned to face 'Roo unarmed. 'Roo punched with her other hand, but this too was caught. There was a moment of pushing and pulling as the two metahumans contested their strength, but 'Roo was losing. The troll pushed her down oon her knees, just in time for Aribeth to reach them. She jumped, sailing over 'Roo's head and hitting the troll in the face with her knee. Normally such a blow wouldn't have been much against the troll's bulk, but running and then jumping had enabled Aribeth to ass enough velocity to her mass. The troll's eye swell shut and she let go of 'Roo, taking a step back.

'Roo used her implanted commlink to send a command to her car, unlocking the doors. She then pushed Aribeth aside and took her place in front of the troll, kicking her between the legs. The troll doubled over from the pain, as 'Roo sent another command to open the car door nearest to them. She grabbed the reeling troll by her horn and pulled her over, stuffing her head between the car's frame and the door. She then started to slam the door shut on the troll's head again and again, shouting colorful profanities as she did so.

As Aribeth was pushed aside, she turned to look over BloodHound's direction. The guys were already at his side, Sparrow looking lost and Goodnight with his hand on BloodHound's cut throat. A faint green glow shone from his hand as he attempted to heal the injury, having released his spell on the axe. Aribeth ran over to BloodHound's side, dropped down on her knees and took his hand in to her's.

"You're going to be okay buddy," she said, her voice trembling as she looked over to Goodnight. "Right?"

"I'm trying," he said. "But he's lost a lot of blood. He needs a transfusion or he _will_ die."

"Right, keep doing what you're doing. I'll get 'Roo and the car." Aribeth tried to stand up, but was held back by BloodHound gripping on her hand. She turned back to him.

"Take care of her," BloodHounnd gurgled, the light in his turning dim. "Take care of 'Roo," he continued.

"You'll be there to look after her, I promise," she said, giving BloodHound's hand a tight squeeze. He finally let go of her and she ran to the car.

"...and suck the shit out me arse you cum junkie rowl cunt!" cried out 'Roo as she kept slamming the door on the troll's head. There was a fair bit of blood on the upholstery and the troll lay limp. 'Roo was about to keep on slamming, but was stopped by Aribeth's hand on her shoulder. She turned to the elf, breathing heavily, her eyes wild.

"'Roo, we need to get BloodHound to a hospital. Drop the troll and let's go."

'Roo nodded, grabbing the troll's limp body and pushing it off the car. Sparrow carried BloodHound to the car. Having closed the wound, Goodnight was desperately typing on his commlink.

"There's a hospital not far from here," he informed the others. Soon enough 'Roo was burning rubber to Goodnight's directions.

On the backseat, Sparow was holding a finger on BloodHound's throat to keep a track of his pulse. Aribeth was holding his hand, squeezing it with desperation.

"It's not far now. You're going to be okay BloodHound."

"Sergei..." mumbled the gunslinger.

Aribeth looked to Sparrow and then back to BloodHound.

"Who's that?"

"Me..." BloodHound panted, his voice getting quieter and quieter. "Sergei Vladimirovich Kuznetsov. So you'll know... what to put on my headstone..."

BloodHound's eyes and the slight smile on his lips gave out a clear message. He was ready. Aribeth's lower lip begun to tremble and tears started to form on her eyes. BloodHound lifted a weak hand, brushing off tears from the corner of her eye.

"Don't weep for the stupid... you'll be crying all day."

BloodHound's eyes moved from Aribeth as he stared up at the ceiling. His eyes grew wide as did a smile on his lips.

"Everyone's here. Time to go." Having said that, his arms fell limp. Aribeth looked over to Sparrow. The troll had his fingers on the human's neck, checking his pulse. With water gathering at the corner of his eyes, Sparrow shook his head.


	9. Chapter 9

It should have been raining. Instead, the day was overcast, like it so often was in Seattle. Rain would have made for much more thematically appropriate funeral. Not that there was a big funeral. BloodHound was cremated, and the urn was stored at Lucky's office. The fixer had a new shelf installed on one of the walls of the office, where the urn would be stored on. This was the first time any runner under Lucky had died. She herself said that it's what her nickname had originated from, people she handled had luck on their side.

For now, the urn was at the end of the conference table. Lucky and the team had gathered around it, with Sensei still in the hospital. There wasn't a dry eye in the room. Lucky had brought in glasses for everyone, as well as a bottle of vodka. Lucky proceeded to pour everyone a shot.

"I remember when BloodHound first came to my office," she said. "He was a far cry from what he'd turn out to be. Messy secondhand clothes, a pistol and a few hundred nuyens to his name. Back then he still had a slight accent, but he lost it pretty soon. He had a confident air to him, but it was clear he was desperate. I got him a few jobs, and the transformation was like from a fairy tale. His first big purchase with his rewards wasn't a bigger gun, but a fine suit. He went from a desperate street muscle to a refined professional within a month." The dwarf rubbed her eyes which were tearing up a bit. She then glanced at the urn and lifted her glass. "_Za zda-ró-vye, _Sergei."

'Roo had her head down. "I should have been quicker on the uptake. A few seconds earlier and I could have got to that bitch before she..." She cleared her throat, in an attempt to keep her composure up. "BloodHound wasn't just a co-worker for me. He was like my big bro. Someone I could trust no matter what happened." She lifted her glass. "Cheers chummer." She then downed her vodka.

Aribeth ran her finger around the glass's rim, thoughtful. "He was loyal. Like a good hound should be. He was also absolutely fearless. Those are attributes I respect." She lifted her glass. "And his jokes made me laugh, even... no, especially the stupid ones." She downed her drink.

Sparrow sighed, exhaling through his nose. "I've never spent much time on the field. Those few times I did, having BloodHound with me was comforting. He was always relaxed. It made me relaxed. And he was one of the few humans who didn't immediately think I'm just some stupid trog." He downed his vodka, his face souring just a bit from the strong taste.

Doctor Goodnight felt a little out of place. Nonetheless, everyone was saying something, so he felt he had to too. "I'll admit I didn't know him that well. From what I interacted with him, he was job-oriented and resourceful. He put me into a test in the very first run I did for the team. Adapt and overcome, that's what I learned from him."

Goodnight stood up, lifting his glass. "_Six pieds sous terre, tu espères encore_

_Six pieds sous terre, tu n'es pas mort_"

He then emptied it and sat down.

Silence reigned over the room for several minutes until there was a knock on the door.

"Mrs. Smiles?" came a tender female voice. "There's someone to see you, she says it's work related.

"Let her in," replied Lucky, and soon the door opened. In stepped an ork of clearly Hispanic decendance. Her bare cyberfeet clicked against the floor as she came to a stop at the end of the table.

"I, uh... I heard through the grapevine that your team lost someone and you could use some muscle. So... here I am. Name's Niña."

Lucky recognized the young ork, smiling and motioning for her to come to sit by her. She poured her a shot of vodka as well, which she downed eagerly.

"Really?" came 'Roo's voice. "BloodHound's ashes are barely cold and you aim to replace him already?" There was genuine anger in her voice.

"BloodHound asked me to look after you," said Aribeth. "You might call this outsourcing, but it is what it is."

"Does she even have what it takes?" 'Roo continued. "In my experience, there are two kinds of Shadowrunners, those desperate enough to take the job, and those who've seen one trid too many. Which one are you?"

Niña face hardened and she was about to stand up, but Lucky placed a hand on her shoulder which seemed to calm her down.

"She's graduated from the school of hard knocks with flying colors. I vouch for her," said the dwarf.

The tension lost most of its edge after that. Lucky took another shot of vodka. "So, why don't you tell everyone else what you bring to the team?"

"Well, first of all, I'm _really_ good at fighting. Unarmed is ok, but I prefer to use my sword. This baby can cut out through almost anything," Niña replied, lifting her right cyberarm as if flexing a bicep. "I'm also good with guns, though under pressure I tend to sometimes go with the spray-and-pray attitude. I'm working on that. Oh, and I can do this," she said, standing up and taking a few steps back. There came a few clicks from her feet, followed by a buzzing sound. She then appeared to grow a few centimeters taller, as if floating. "They're skimmer discs! Like those used in most flying drones. They let me hover a bit off the ground and go _way_ faster than if I was running. They're a bitch to control, but I've got them down by now." After the short explanation, the buzzing sound stopped and Niña returned to the floor.

"BloodHound might be gone," said Lucky. "But he'll always be here," she continued, placing her fist over her heart. The rest of the team followed suit. They then began rising from their seats and heading out, until Aribeth took hold of Niña's arm.

"Can we have a word?"

The ork gave Aribeth a wary look. "Sure," the ork replied, waiting in the hallway until everyone else had left and Lucky had moved to her office.

"We killed our last employer because he put a price on our heads. Some Crimson Crush guys tried to cash in on it while I was hiding in one of their properties. I killed four of them. I know you grew up with Crimson Crush... are we going to have a problem?"

Niña gave Aribeth a hard look. "From what I heard the order didn't come from above. The guys were just looking for a quick paycheck, so the gang won't try to get you back for that. But I knew those guys. Knew them for most of my life. I get that you had to defend yourself. I'm not going to stab you in the back or fuck up any runs we'll work on together, but that's it. If it's not run-related, I don't want to see you, I don't want to hear from you. I don't even want to think about you. Thanks for everything you did for me," she said bluntly, then turned away and left. Aribeth stood in silence for a moment. She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her coat. It seemed like she had just lost a second friend.

She eventually left the building, noticing Goodnight standing on the street corner, leaning against the building and smoking a cigarette. She walked over to the dark-skinned elf, forcing a smile on her face.

"Hey. Got one of those for me too?" she asked. Goodnight arched a brow, but took out a cigarette and handed it over to Aribeth.

"Stay still," he said, and she did. He snapped his fingers, lighting the cig between Aribeth's lips. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes as she slowly blew the smoke out.

"I thought you had quit?" said Goodnight.

"I did quit. And now I'm starting again. It's the great circle of nicotine," Aribeth replied, moving her arms in an arc to paint a large circle in the air. Goodnight chuckled at that.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked Aribeth. Aribeth wiped her eyes again, mentally berating herself for crying so much.

"I've lost friends before. It's just... it never gets easier," she said, clearing her throat as those damn tears just kept coming. "It should, right? I mean, fuck. You trust a person to be there and then suddenly, they aren't. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Goodnight nodded along as Aribeth spoke, then replied: "But he's not all gone, is he? He's still here." He then lifted his free hand and pointed at Aribeth's chest. "Nobody's truly dead as long as someone remembers them. It's not the same of course, but we have to make do. And hey, you can always choose to believe in an afterlife. It worked for me."

Aribeth smiled a little. "Choose to believe? You're not preaching your worldview as gospel?"

"I teach and praise what I know. It's up to the listener to decide whether they believe me or not. Big Massa gave us free will for a reason."

"If only more religious people thought like that," Aribeth chuckled as she took another drag of her cigarette.

"Imagine the Pope breaking bread with a bunch of Islamic extremists. It'd cause anarchy, rioting, mass fires, cat's and dogs living together, mass hysteria," Goodnight said.

"I guess the world just isn't ready for radical thoughts like that," mused Aribeth. Goodnight nodded as he inhaled the last of his cigarette, dropping the butt on the ground and stomping on it.

"I think I'll have some rum in BloodHound's memory tonight. Never was much for vodka, to be honest. But for now, _a__u revoir_," he said. He then tipped his hat at Aribeth and turned to leave. Only he was stopped. Aribeth's free hand was pinching the rim of his sleeve between her index finger and thumb. The hold was dainty and light. He arched a brow once more as he turned to look at the she-elf.

"I don't really wanna be alone tonight. Mind if I come over and you... teach me some more about Vodou?" Her voice was unusually light, even trembling a little. Goodnight sensed how unused she was to opening herself up like this. She was like a butterfly on his sleeve, prone to fly away if he wasn't careful.

"That would be my absolute pleasure, _mon amie._"

-0-

A few hours later, the two elves were in Goodnight's apartment in Old Everett. They were laying in bed, their sweaty bodies sticking to one another. Both were smoking again, silent for the moment. It was Aribeth who spoke first.

"How many eyebrows did you burn off before you got the hand of that finger flick lighting trick?"

"Just my own, once was enough," he replied with a chuckle.

"It is a pretty neat trick. Wonder if I could install a lighter in my hand..." Aribeth mused, lifting her cyberam up and turning her chrome hand around.

"Why'd you get a chrome arm in the first place? You said you didn't even install any weapons until just recently," Goodnight asked.

Aribeth sighed. "It's a not-so-fun story. CliffsNotes version, my left hand was cuffed and I was in a bad place. I had to break the bones in my hand so I could squeeze out. Then I had to hide for a bit without medical attention and when I got it, gangrene had set in. So, off with the old, in with the new and shiny. It pretty much bankrupted me, but I needed two sets of hands to work. I mean, at least I think so. I wasn't keen on finding out if I could make it with just one."

"Yeesh. I'm sorry to hear you had to go through that."

Aribeth shrugged. "Eh, in the end, it made me stronger. And the cyberblades are useful." She turned her head to look at Goodnight. "How old were you when you figured out you could do magic?"

Goodnight puffed the last of his cigarette and stumped it on a glass ashtray on his nightstand. "I was fourteen. My _grand-mère_, uh, that's to say, grandmother, brought me into the fold of Vodou when I was just a little kid. She taught me all kinds of rituals and charms I could use to make life easier, as well as how to revere the _les invis-ibles_. Imagine my surprise when I tried to commune with spirits and one actually answered."

"And here I thought it was a shock when I first noticed that I've grown boobs," Aribeth replied, both elves laughing a little.

Aribeth reached over to put out her cigarette as well, then rested her head on Goodnight's chest, hugged him and closed her eyes.

-0-

Lucky sat in her office, alone but for the bottle of vodka she had opened earlier. It was significantly emptier than before. It was late, her secretary had gone home some hours ago. Lucky stayed behind, slowly filling her belly with the strong drink while staring at the urn on its shelf. It was a small miracle that this was the first time a runner under her died. Suppose it was inevitable. She thought she'd been... lucky. She snorted at her own thoughts and downed another shot. She then glanced at her personal terminal. Some runners, preparing for the inevitable, gave Lucky power of attorney in case of their untimely deaths. After BloodHound's death, she had stopped over his apartment and cataloged everything, putting it and all his possession for sale. Runners nearly always had someone who they'd want their possession to end up for when they died. BloodHound had never let Lucky know of any next of kin or other inheritors. She was at a loss what to do with the money. There was probably a load of charities willing to take the money off of her hands. Or she could save it, for emergencies. These were the thoughts she was in when someone knocked on her office door.

Lucky snapped into attention, not sure if she heard right. She waited a few seconds, after which there came another, louder knock.

"Uh, come in," she called out. The door opened, and in stepped a well dressed, broad-shouldered and dark-haired man, his gold-plated hands reflecting the light of Lucky's desk lamp. He took his hat off and looked at the dwarf like she reminded him of something that tasted bad. Caesar "Chrome" Ciarnello had just entered Lucky's office.

Lucky was a bit stunned, just staring at the man through her booze-goggles. She was surprised by Caesar showing up, sure, but not so much his expression. It was no secret that Caesar didn't think highly of anyone who wasn't white, male and human. As a black dwarf female, Lucky ticked all the wrong boxes.

"Uh, Mister Ciarnello," she stammered. "Please, take a seat," she continued, motioning at the chair across her desk. The man stepped forward and settled into the chair. "How may I help you?" she continued.

"I heard you lost a man recently. The runner BloodHound, right?"

Lucky nodded, pointing at the urn on the shelf. "He's my first hall-of-famer."

Caesar glanced at the urn, his face turning in to a little more of a smile before he turned back to Lucky. "I'll keep this brief. BloodHound was a friend to our organization. I am personally saddened by his passing. So..." He reached into his pocket and produced a folded up paper slip. She placed in on Lucky's desk. "If you or anyone in BloodHound's team ever needs help with anything... give me a call. I feel like owing you people a favor is the least I can do to commemorate his memory." Having said that, he stood up and turned to leave. He stopped midway, looking at the urn. He sighed deeply, then proceeded to leave Lucky alone once more.

-0-

'Roo stared at her computer screen with dull eyes. She was on a gambling site, checking to see if there were any high rolling poker games going down. There were a few with a buy-in of several tens of thousands of nuyens, but 'Roo felt like going big for once. She wouldn't stoop for anything lower than 50k.

She turned away from the screen. A mental command brought her commlink up in her field of vision. She flipped through it, bringing up BloodHound's number. She wanted to call him. Wanted to hear his voice again. Even if it was just a recorded message. She hesitated over the call button, and in the end, she dialed it. She listened to the call ring over and over, until there was a clicking sound.

"The number you have called could not be reached. El número al que ha llamado no se-" She ended the call. She bit on her lower lip as she could feel herself tearing up again. Very slowly, but determinately, she deleted BloodHound's contact info. While swiping through her other contacts, she found one she had nearly forgotten about. Lucy the intern. Back when she and BloodHound... well, _she_ started a bar fight, BloodHound stopped it. She'd swiped the elf girl's digits before putting her into a cab, for what reason she didn't even remember. She thought of the elven girl and her cute freckles. She'd probably forgotten all about her... or maybe not. It's not every day you get "kidnapped" by shadowrunners. She wondered if the girl was still brewing coffee for the asshat ork 'Roo had clobbered. Probably, if not him then someone like him. She hated the idea, a smart girl like Lucy could be doing so much more. A new thought brewed up in her head.

She was about to make the call when she took one last look at her monitor, noticing there was a high stakes game available. Buy in was at 80k. She immediately clicked to enter the game and was about to link her "gambling" account to the site, but hesitated. She leaned back in her chair. No matter what angle she thought about it, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was money BloodHound had died for, never getting to spend a nickel of it. She _really_ wanted to play... but in the end, she closed the site and made the call.

"Lucy Kirkland, who is this?" came the elf's smooth voice.

"Hey Sheila! Remember me?"

There was a short pause before Lucy replied. "How did you get this number?"

"I swiped your digits before putting you in a cab home, but that's not important. You still an intern at DocWagon?"

"No, I am not. All thanks to you and that crazy friend of your's with the guns! They kicked me out so fast my head was spinning. Or maybe it was spinning from the drugs you put in me!" She huffed in indignation. "What more do you want from me?"

"Well for one, that friend of mine? He died a few days ago."

There was a long silence.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," said Lucy. She even sounded sincere. "I don't see why that's any of my business though. What do you want?"

"Well, I was thinking, do you have that thing... you know, the license to be a lawyer?"

"If you mean admission to practice law, then yes, I do. Not that it gets any use at the moment, I'm working at a Stuffer Shack to pay back my student loan. I couldn't get another internship after word spread of what happened."

"Well that sucks, I'm sorry," 'Roo said, also sincere. "Why don't you go out on your own? Start your own company, become an awesome lawyer?"

Lucy scoffed. "Did you call me just to taunt me? I can't just whip up a law practice! I don't have the money or the connections for that!"

"Well, I've got this lawyer friendo who could direct you to people who _really_ need a lawyer. As for money... how does a small loan of hundred thousand nuyen sound like?"

There was a long silence.

"Are... are you serious?"

"One hundred percent."

"What's the catch?"

"You'll go out and have a beer with me."

Another long silence.

"Why are you doing this? You... you can't seriously just go around handing out a hundred thousand nuyen for someone you've met once."

'Roo blew a raspberry into the phone. "Screw you _**Mom**_, I do what I want."

Lucy was surprised into silence. After a moment's hesitation, she replied.

"Deal. I... I suppose we should meet up to discuss the terms of the loan and... maybe have that beer. Are you free tomorrow?"

'Roo grinned from ear to ear. "For you, definitely."


End file.
